


The Christmas Connection

by fireroasted



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, COO Aubrey, Christmas, F/F, Famous Stacie, Soulmates, Veterinarian Chloe, music producer beca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: In this world, there is a common myth that when December comes, the Christmas Spirit comes along and binds your thoughts and feelings to those of your soulmate's. All it takes is a glance of a photograph, and a dash of luck to go with your fate. The hard part is surviving with someone inside your head until Christmas Day.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Stacie Conrad/Aubrey Posen
Comments: 30
Kudos: 206





	1. The First Week

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to all of my loyal readers of The Million-Dollar Bounty. This fandom has been a blast to write for, and it's all because of your support. Though this holiday season may not be like any other, I hope this story will bring you the holiday joy we all deserve :)

**CHLOE & BECA - Wednesday, December 2nd**

Chloe Beale adored December.

She adored the lights, the snow, and the crisp winter air that tinted her cheeks pink when she rode her bike to work. She loved the big sweaters, wrapping herself up in a scarf, or snuggling under a blanket with a steaming cup of hot cocoa at the end of the day. She felt something magical when she dimmed the lights and gazed at her beautiful Christmas tree, lit up with colourful lights and handmade ornaments. That was why she put it up every year as soon as the Halloween candy bowls were emptied. By November 1st, she would start steadily playing Christmas songs, just to look forward to December 1st, when she would start cramming as many as she could into her day to ring in the magic of December.

There was a common belief that the Christmas Spirit wakes up on December 1st, connecting souls together in heart and mind. It was an urban legend as pervasive as Santa Claus, and Chloe had heard every story and read every book. It was an inexplicable phenomenon, a romantic ideal, that filled Chloe’s boundless imagination.

They called it the Christmas Connection.

And someday, she knew, it was going to be her turn.

Some who have experienced the magic of the Christmas Connection said it hits you like a truck—all at once, you feel the presence of another deep within you, a person you are bound to for the rest of your life in some way, shape, or form. Your soulmate.

Others say it enters you slowly, then leaves you slowly—footsteps in your life that are as significant as you wish it to be.

They say it’s different for everyone, but in every story, there are two consistent truths. The first, you and the one you are bound to must look at a photograph of each other at the exact same time. Fate, after all, must contain some element of luck. The second, the connection unfailingly severs at midnight, on Christmas Day.

Chloe never thought much of the second rule—She’d spent her entire life wishing and waiting for the first. When she was younger, she’d joined countless others in posting pictures of herself on streetlights and telephone polls and inundating every social media account with Christmas selfies. This, of course, invited far too many creeps who felt it was within their right to pretend they could hear her voice.

That wasn’t the only disappointment. When one loved and lived for this fairy tale for as long as Chloe had, each quiet year, each year overlooked by the Christmas Spirit, was another year of disappointment. And Chloe tried not to let it affect her. She counted her blessings and poured her heart into her friends and family, but there was a hole in her heart.

A hole that not even a steady string of relationships could fill. It became inevitable that Chloe was always single on December 1st. She told herself she wanted to leave the opportunity open, but really, nobody she met could live up to Chloe’s expectation of December 1st. Even if the perfect person came on November thirtieth, they didn’t stand a chance.

Chloe knew it was silly to hold so dearly to a myth while letting the present pass her by, but she couldn’t help it. Nobody captured her imagination the way her mysterious soulmate did.

She’d gone through so many iterations of what she thought her soulmate might look like. A tall, handsome prince, or a strong, beautiful princess. It flip-flopped so often over the years that she no longer cared.

She just wanted to be chosen.

This year, her wish was finally coming true.

She just didn’t know it yet.

At the moment, Chloe sprang out of bed and into the shower, and it would feel like any other December 1st. She ate her breakfast, bid goodbye to her roommate as she groggily came out of her room, and hopped on her bicycle. This year, like any other, she sang Christmas carols as she leisurely rode through the early morning streets, and she grinned when people waved or gawked. She knew she always looked ridiculous—her red helmet with the shimmery antlers glued on top, and her candy cane scrubs poking out from her puffy, red jacket. The singing certainly didn’t help, but she just _adored_ everything about this time of year.

On this day, she would arrive at the veterinary clinic early, as she did every morning, and she would put on some soft music from the old CD player nobody had gotten around to replacing. She shuffled through the stack of old CDs, and she frowned when she realized they had only two Christmas albums—generic compilations—and she knew them both back to front. She would resolve to go to the mall after work, and she would dread the crowds at the same time that she’d be excited for the extravagant mall decorations every year.

When her work day started, she wouldn’t remember much of the resolution she made. Her mood would be dampened by sick cat she had to put down, and she would go straight home and binge-watch a series of Lifetime and Hallmark Christmas movies to feel a little better about the part of her job she’d never get used to. Her roommate would make a beautiful baked chicken dish to cheer her up, and they would laugh and she would go to bed as happy as she could be.

December 1st would come and go.

December 2nd would be a different story.

On the morning of December 2nd, she would do it all again. She’d sing her songs, remind herself to go to the mall, and see a couple of patients. It was a spirited, but entirely unremarkable morning for Chloe.

Her wish, never too far from her mind, was about to come true.

But not yet. She was hours away.

At the moment, Chloe was on her way to lunch, oblivious to what her destiny had in store for her.

Approximately five miles north, Beca Mitchell had just thrown her alarm clock to the floor.

Beca didn’t believe in fairy tales. All she knew in this very moment, at 11:21 in the morning, was that she was late. Very, very late. Fairy tales could not have been further from her mind when she got into her car at 11:30, wearing two-day clean black jeans, and a leather jacket on top of the tank top she slept in, to slog through the gridlock to get to her 11:45 appointment.

A crazy woman on a bicycle wearing a glittery helmet with reindeer antlers rode by her. Even through the heavy bass of the music in her car, she could hear a faint, “You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why…”

“What the—” she began to say. But her assistant’s name suddenly began to glow on her dashboard display, and she heaved a heavy sigh, preparing herself for the verbal onslaught. The woman was forgotten when she picked up the phone.

This woman was, in fact, returning to her clinic with a paper bag full of samosas to share with everyone at work. At almost the exact same moment she popped the lock onto her bicycle, Beca was stalking into the studio, grouchy and hungry as she got a different earful from her manager.

Later in the afternoon, Beca sat down at a café a block away from the studio with a friend and relished in the warmth of the black Americano entering her system. While she sat there, talking to her friend, she saw a poster in the café window, advertising a children’s choir, led by a smiling redhead. She glazed over the poster like any other part of the scenery, and turned back to her friend. Without a clue as to how that very poster was going to change her life.

Across town, Chloe was finishing up with her last client of the day, a grumpy orange tabby who needed a check-up for his diabetes. His parents were relieved when Chloe carried him out with a smile. “It’s a Christmas miracle that his blood sugar levels are okay after he got into our cookies,” his mom said as she took the carrier from Chloe.

Chloe laughed. “Like I always say, Christmas is the most magical time of the year.”

At a 6:09, Chloe arrived at the mall with her helmet strapped to her backpack. She took a moment to take in the massive snowflakes dangling from the ceiling, and the beautiful snow globe centrepiece in the concourse.

At this time, Beca just stepped out of her studio to stretch her legs with a quick walk around the block in search of dinner.

At 6:16, Chloe was inside the record store, a musty, dark store, with a teenager at the cash register, typing away at his phone. A grumbling guitar-heavy track played through the empty store. Chloe flipped through several CDs in a box closest to her, then asked the teenager if they had any Christmas albums. She wanted to get some for the clinic, as well as a few to inspire her choir kids with. He pointed to a far wall at the entrance. She thanked him—she didn’t know how she managed to miss the red and green construction paper hollies taped to this section.

At 6:17, Beca was passing by the familiar café, dark now with chairs stacked neatly by the outdoor seating area, on her way to a cozy little pub two doors down. On her walk, she’d decided she wanted a burger. She’d been thinking about it all day—perhaps she’d seen it in someone’s hand earlier.

As she passed by the café, however, she inexplicably turned her head toward the poster she’d seen earlier. The poster itself was entirely generic, but maybe it was the splash of familiarity in her peripheral, or the pop of white standing out against the dark-stained wood trimming. Regardless, she looked.

In that exact moment, Chloe’s eyes roamed across the selection. There were so many to choose from, so many covers filled with red, green, and white. For half a second, her attention was snagged by a moody blue portrait of a woman’s profile. She wasn’t particularly interested in a supposed Christmas album filled with the colour _blue_ , but it stood out among the rest.

That half a second would forever change her life.

Because it was in this moment, between a casual glance at a poster and a confused blink at an album cover, Chloe and Beca’s souls became entwined. They both shivered in tandem—something tingly itched their nose.

Chloe threw several CDs in her little basket, and Beca continued toward the pub.

They were fourteen miles apart, without a clue yet exactly how close they were.

The first thought Beca transmitted was an accident. It was 6:30, and she sat now, warm inside the pub with a menu in hand. _Damn, that mushroom burger looks good._

Chloe stuttered to a stop several steps away from the record store. She was in the middle of zipping up her backpack. The voice was unfamiliar, but sounded so close she wasn’t sure if it was coming from inside or outside her own head. Her gaze swept her immediate vicinity, but all she saw were busy shoppers rushing around her. _Weird_ , she thought.

 _It’s not weird. I mean, bacon and beef has always seemed like a little much to me…_ Beca blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Did she just have a conversation with herself? She wondered briefly. A waitress appeared at her table then. _Oh, she’s cute_ , she thought idly as she placed her order.

 _What? Who?_ Chloe furrowed her brows. There was nobody around her. She shook her head and hurried to her bike. The mall suddenly felt crowded and loud. She must’ve just been eavesdropping on someone. How else could she explain a sudden conversation with herself about burgers and cute girls? Aubrey was making lasagna today, and she’d been looking forward to it all week.

Outside, the air was frosty, the kind that Chloe loved despite the way it bit her skin sometimes, because nothing quite woke you up the way winter did. She was relieved at the silence. Relieved she wasn’t losing her mind as she swung her leg over her bicycle. _Dammit, a wedgie_.

Beca nearly dropped her burger. _A wedgie? What the hell?_ She shifted a little in her seat—she was fine.

Chloe nearly rammed her bicycle into the car in front of her. _I’m losing my mind_.

Beca frowned, but shrugged off the stray thought—clearly, she wasn’t getting enough sleep. She took a bite of her burger. In that moment, however, her phone lit up with a text message marked HELP. Her fingers, however, were greasy with a mix of juices and stray mustard. _Ah, fuck._

Chloe, luckily, was at a red light when she heard the quiet curse. Otherwise, she may have fallen off in the middle of traffic. Because Chloe very rarely swore. She seldom even _thought_ of swearing—the words were too cliché, too overused to have any real meaning.

And this, among the cacophony of raging car horns, was when it hit her.

Her Christmas Connection.

_Oh my god, it’s finally happening._

Silence.

 _Hello_?

But there was no response.

Because at that very moment, Beca had wiped her fingers on a napkin and was hurriedly replying to her friend’s message. Stacie was stranded at a party she didn’t want to be at, and after a rapid-fire exchange, alternating between teasing and consoling, she agreed to pick her up.

During this exchange, Beca very dimly registered Chloe’s voice, but the pub itself was full of white noise, and her own mind was preoccupied.

What they would soon learn is that the human mind is a complex instrument, and thought is often neither clear or tangible, comprising of images and words and abstract murmurs on multiple levels of consciousness.

Luckily, Chloe is nothing if not tenacious. She raced home, her mind rushing and her heart thumping. She carried her bike up the stairs, waved hello to the concierge, and stepped into the spacious elevator, her knuckles white against the handlebars of her bike.

She closed her eyes and channeled all her energy into a conscious thought.

 _Hello?_ _My name is Chloe. Can you hear me?_

Beca heard it, though she still could not register it. She was annoyed at a crowd singing “Happy Birthday” somewhere behind her while trying to find her credit card. The cute waitress was standing there, her polite smile fixed firmly into place. The longer she smiled, the more she didn’t seem so cute after all.

Chloe tried again.

_Hello, my name is Chloe. Can you hear me?_

When the waitress finally walked away, Beca ran a hand through her hair. _Who the hell is Chloe_? The name popped into her consciousness so suddenly that the question surprised her.

I’m _Chloe. Who are you?_

Chloe was stepping out of the elevator now, her heart beating loud in her ears. She heard her—she _actually_ heard her. Her Connection was a woman! She didn’t know why she was surprised—she’d dated her fair share of women over the years. Perhaps it was just pure statistics that led to her expectation of a more masculine voice.

Beca didn’t reply. She walked out of the pub and into the cool night air, convinced she was hearing voices. It was quiet outside.

So quiet that she couldn’t deny the unmistakably unfamiliar voice when it spoke again: _I’m Chloe. Who are you_?

Beca stopped, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket as she shook her head. _I’m losing my mind._

 _You’re not,_ Chloe replied as she stood in front of her apartment. She couldn’t stop smiling. _You’re my Christmas Connection_. She rested the tip of her helmet against the door. Finally.

“This can’t be real,” Beca muttered to nobody in particular as she continued her trek back to the studio to grab her car. _The Christmas whatever is bullshit._

Chloe’s smile fell.

She didn’t know what to expect when she finally got her wish. Mostly, she imagined long, intimate conversations, shared joy and shared sorrows, tethered by hot cocoa and farm fires, even if they were miles apart. Perhaps that would come later, because she certainly didn’t expect her _soulmate_ —a person intimately connected to her life despite all odds across space and time—to be a Christmas Connection _denier_.

 _You’re kidding!_ _Of course, it’s real! You can hear me, right? That makes me your soulmate._

 _Soulmate_? _Jesus._ Beca mumbled an apology when she accidentally bumped into another pedestrian, interrupting her thought for a moment. _No more drinking on weekdays_ , she resolved.

Chloe frowned as she inserted her key into her lock. _You’re not talking yourself—you’re talking to_ me _. Have you...never heard of the Christmas Connection_?

Beca exhaled in frustration. _Sure, but it’s like Santa Claus—this is real life,_ she answered before she realized she was indulging the voice in her head.

_Then what do you call this?_

_A trip to the therapist._

Chloe snorted as she threw her keys into the bowl and lifted her bike up to the rack on the wall. She looked around the open living room and kitchen. Quiet. She toed off her shoes and threw herself onto the long, white couch, grabbing a throw pillow and clutching it against her chest as she laid back against the armrest. There were distant sounds in one of the bedrooms down the hall. Aubrey was probably home, too caught up in her work to start dinner.

 _At least she’s funny_ , she thought drily.

Beca scoffed this time as she reached her car. She still wasn’t fully convinced this wasn’t some kind of insane joke or a dream she couldn’t wake up from, but it was impossible not to indulge this voice. Firstly, because it was almost impossible to turn her off, and secondly, because despite the most cynical parts of Beca, she was curious.

She pulled up the address Stacie sent and watched her car’s display plan out her route. _Thirty-minute drive? Are you kidding me?_

 _Where are you going?_ Chloe asked as she twirled her red hair between her fingers.

 _Didn’t you say we’re connected, or whatever?_ Beca pushed the ignition.

 _Yes, but I can’t hear everything. Can you tell what I’m thinking?_ Chloe blushed a little. She was trying to construct an image of her soulmate, put a face to her voice. But try as she might, she could not recall where she might have seen her photograph. She’d seen thousands of faces today at the mall, in advertisements, on the covers of books and magazines—she couldn’t pinpoint an exact time or place.

 _No_. _I hear your voice. That’s it._

_Me too. I don’t even know your name._

Beca’s fingered hovered over her playlist. She never drove without it, not when driving offered such a precious opportunity to really focus on the music. She had a backlog of potential candidates for the vocal tracks on an upcoming album, and a deadline looming above her. And yet, she found herself fascinated by the voice in her head—so fascinated that she retracted her fingers and pushed the gear into drive. For the first time in a long time, she drove in silence.

Of course, it was anything but silent inside her head.

 _You still never told me your name_ , the voice repeated.

 _It’s Beca_.

 _Cute. We both have two-syllable names_. Outside her head, Chloe buried her face in the pillow in her arms. _Wow, what a stupid thing to say_. Of course, nobody warned her that being so closely connected meant there would be very little room to filter things out for the other voice in your head.

Beca laughed. _She’s ridiculous._

Chloe puffed out her cheeks. _Hey!_

“Guess she really can hear everything,” Beca murmured at her steering wheel with a blush. “Awkward.”

_Yeah, it kinda is, isn’t it?_

Beca furrowed her brows. This was such a bizarre experience—like two bodies crammed into one, together yet separate. Like a stranger in her home, watching everything she did. No, it was more like _she_ was stuck living in a complete stranger’s home, unsure what to say or where to put her limbs. _Does she really exist? Maybe it’s just a voice_ , she thought absently as she pulled onto the highway.

 _Yes, she does_. Chloe laughed. _I’m in my living room right now, hanging out on the couch. Staring at my Christmas tree. I have an apartment, a roommate, a job, and a whole life._

 _Impressive_ , Beca thought with a chuckle. _You’ve got it all. Even a Christmas tree on December 2 nd. You’re not one of those mall Santas, are you? _

_I wish! That always seems like such a fun job._

_Pretty sure my mom dated a mall Santa once—he was an asshole, so I’m biased._

_Are you one of those too-cool-for-Christmas types with spike earrings and a leather jacket?_

Beca glanced into her rear-view mirror at the many piercings lining her ear and the worn leather jacket she’d thrown on this morning. _I’m not…not that, I guess_. _Christmas sucks—I hate it._

Chloe shot up. “She hates Christmas?” she yelled. She’d suspected a lukewarm attitude to the myth itself and maybe a few secret smiles whenever she heard a caroler in the park, but to hate Christmas altogether was absolutely inconceivable to Chloe. _Nobody_ hates Christmas.

 _Oh, this is new,_ Beca thought when a warm burst of something suddenly started bubbling in her chest. Where she had been feeling perfectly calm—albeit a little confused—as she drove along the highway, there was a sudden spike of…anger? But Beca knew what anger felt like, and this wasn’t that. At least, it wasn’t her own. _Is she angry?_

Chloe blinked at the Christmas tree across from her, her arms still gripping the pillow tightly. She hadn’t even been aware of her own emotions yet—had only just begun to feel the tightness in her chest, the dread she thought she was feeling when she realized the Spirits connected her with a Christmas-hater. After all, she’d waited _years_ for this day.

But Chloe rarely got angry. At least, that was what she thought.

 _Are you mad I hate Christmas?_ Beca’s voice was incredulous.

 _You can feel it?_ The only thing Chloe felt, the only thing niggling at the top of her consciousness, was confusion.

 _Yeah, still can_. _You must really love Christmas_. This time, she sounded amused.

 _I do_.

“Chloe? You’re home already?”

The sudden voice pulled Chloe’s focus, and she turned around to see Aubrey coming down the hallway, coughing a little into the crook of her elbow. “Hey, Bree,” she greets with a distracted smile. “Feeling better?”

Her friend was pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail. She wore a weary, apologetic smile as she hung around the doorway, looking worryingly pale. “Are you hungry? Sorry, I got a little caught up in my meeting. Lasagna next time?”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said, despite the tiny sting of disappointment. “But you really don’t look good. Did you catch a cold?”

Aubrey flashed a small, sheepish smile. “Maybe.”

“It’s all those late nights you’re pulling,” Chloe said disapprovingly. She stood then and propped her pillow neatly back on the couch. _Dammit_. She’d wanted to talk to Beca for a little while longer. But Aubrey looked so tired. “I’ll make you some soup. Go back to bed and turn off your computer for five minutes, okay?” 

_Beca?_ She tried to reach out as she shepherded Aubrey back toward her bedroom.

 _Yep_.

_I have to make dinner now. We should really get to know each other later._

_You know we’re psychically connected, right? I literally have no choice._

_Well, yes, but I called you earlier, and you didn’t answer, so…_

_Oh, I can turn you off?_

_Hey! Don’t you dare._

_I’m kidding._ Beca grinned as she eased into the exit lane. _She’s cute_.

Chloe walked right into Aubrey, her cheeks on fire at the comment. From the absent way her voice whispered into her thoughts, she was sure Beca had forgotten she could hear every salient thought. _Uh…_

Aubrey turned. “Are you okay?” She asked, her brows knitting with concern.

“Yep, yep, sorry, just zoning out,” Chloe said, laughing uneasily.

_Totally okay._

And definitely not absolutely flustered by the sarcastic Christmas-hater who was supposed to be her soulmate.

On the other side of town, Beca rolled down her window and called out to her friend. In that moment, as she watched Stacie wobble down the steps of a red-carpeted building guarded by uniformed doormen, she felt suddenly warm. She couldn’t hear Chloe, but she felt her there, felt something in her chest blossom for a split second before Stacie opened the door and it was cool inside the car once more.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Stacie said, slumping into the passenger seat with a sigh. “What. A. Day.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Beca mumbled.

**STACIE & AUBREY - Friday, December 4th**

Stacie Conrad was a hopeless romantic.

She loved the idea of The One and mused often about stories that rhapsodized about them. Among these stories, of course, was one nestled in the holiday season—the Christmas Connection—and though she felt not particular attachment to the holiday itself, she held out hope whenever December came along. It was a casual sort of longing, mostly because she longed all year round.

All she’d ever wanted was to be understood on a deeper level. She wanted someone to find her, to see and understand the sides of herself even she didn’t know. A part of her told her it was archaic. That part told her to look around and see the world as it were—see the strength she gave others, see what she added to the awesome power of womankind. But a different part of her was enchanted by the fairy tales. That part reminded her of the lonely nights and the empty love. It reminded her that she simply wanted to love and be loved, to give and to take.

December was the one month in the year where her celebrity was a blessing and not a curse. Her face was plastered everywhere, from big screens to transit ads to billboards. If there really were One in the universe created just for her, December would be her biggest chance.

And she would be right. Even if, like Chloe, nobody really told her what to expect if her wish ever did come true.

On this particular December morning, she rolled out of bed at 6:00 on the dot and trudged over to her treadmill overlooking the cityscape through floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Her cat, a pudgy tortoiseshell with a pink Sailor Moon bow on her collar, followed her, stretching languidly next to the treadmill as if in encouragement.

“Must be nice to be you, Luna,” she said with a yawn as she started up the machine. “Hopelessly adorable, without a care in the world.” Luna trotted up to the window in response and squatted down on her hind legs to stare outside, chirping periodically at the birds flying by.

Approximately twenty miles away, the One she was looking for was still in bed. She wouldn’t be up for another hour, when she would make coffee and see her roommate off to work.

By that time, Stacie’s manager had already arrived, and the two of them sat at the bar top with a shot of espresso each as they discussed her schedule.

“You have the MacLaren shoot first thing for their new prototype, then an interview with Vogue to tease next year’s spring line. After that…” Her manager paused and scrolled through her tablet, a little crease in her brow in concentration. “Oh yes, market research is suggesting a trend toward the stimulation of the local economy. Small businesses, homegrown dollars, and all that. A couple of companies reached out to you in hopes of being able to secure your support for marketing purposes.”

Stacie frowned. “Jess, you know I hate being a spokesperson for anything. It’s so tacky.”

Unphased, her manager continued scrolling through something on her tablet as she spoke. “Yes, which is why it’s all in the preliminary stages. I picked one in particular because it looks pretty promising, and I think you’ll like it. Something that appeals to a side of you the world hasn’t seen yet.”

“That sounds ominous,” Stacie said with an uneasy laugh.

Jessica handed Stacie the tablet. On the screen was a muted blue and white website with a bold logo at the top of the website. “They’re called Vision A Robotics,” she explained. “It’s a new start-up specializing in AI and robotics in ecological research or something like that. Anyway, it’s just a short meeting today. They’ll run you through the company and see if you’d like to work with them on creating some marketing content.

Stacie gawked at Jessica for a moment, speechless. “Robotics?” she repeated in disbelief. The closest she’d ever come to working with technology was modelling for cars. “Why would they want me?” she asked.

Jessica tilted her head. “You don’t like it? You don’t have to agree to anything today, but at least give them a chance. You’re the one who said you wanted something different.”

“No, I mean, that sounds…amazing, but most people choose to overlook my PhD, Jess,” she laughed. “I’m not sure what they want from me.”

“Well, maybe this would be a good time to remind them,” Jess replied with a grin.

This little piece of news would put an extra bounce in her step for the rest of the day. Because Stacie was a hopeless romantic, not just for The One, but in every part of her life. She had a decades-long romance with fashion, while maintaining her romances with modelling, creating, and advocating. She’d even had a brief but heady fling with acting. But her one great love, the one that seemed to slip away despite years of pursuit in her youth, was human ingenuity in science and technology. Creating, sculpting the future while expanding the capabilities of the human mind—this, she thought as she stepped into the dressing room to change out of her clothes for the MacLaren shoot, was where her heart laid.

At a quarter to one, Stacie sat in the back of her car with a poke bowl in her lap and a spoon in her mouth as she scrolled through her messages. Her driver was taking her across town to the Vogue interview. Jessica sat beside her, preoccupied with the endless emails she seemed to always be typing. Stacie glanced beside her—she’d never seen Jessica _not_ busy, she realized. Back on her own phone, Beca sent a GIF that made her choke on the ponzu-doused sushi rice she’d been chewing.

While Stacie guzzled down a bottle of water, her One was at an investor’s meeting in her home office, a mere two miles from the interview.

Aubrey hadn’t left the house since she came down with the flu three days ago, and all she could focus on at the moment was how thankful she was that none of the suits in the meeting could smell her.

When Stacie arrived at her interview, Aubrey took a much-needed shower and resolved to get some sunshine on a rare sunny day while she finally felt well enough to stand upright for more than thirty minutes. For a moment, she contemplated dropping by the office to check in on everyone—she was the COO after all—but then she sneezed, and she was reminded of her CEO’s strict instructions to rest. “The longer you stay away, the more likely things are to suck. So, please, please, please, don’t come back until you get better.”

When Aubrey decided to help Emily establish her own business, she’d never expected to be successful. And she definitely didn’t expect to be _this_ successful. She had a comfortable job at a bank, managing millions upon millions of dollars in assets. Emily was her mother’s best friend’s daughter that she’d known since the kid was in diapers. A kid with a big brain and even bigger dreams. A kid her mother coerced her into coaching over brunch. The same kid who later came to her, starry-eyed, and sweet-talked her into joining her team. And fine—she could privately admit—she’d always had a very soft spot for Emily and it didn’t take much before she made the insane decision of saying yes to her.

But she never looked back. Emily was a genius who needed boundless outlets and Aubrey was a workaholic who needed a place to exert her control over. Together, Vision A became something magnificent. A dream only Emily could’ve dreamt up, and a reality only Aubrey could’ve created.

A magnificent company that definitely wasn’t going to be burned down in the three days she’d been away, she repeatedly told herself.

Aubrey walked over to the spacious living room and pulled open the curtains to let the sunshine in. The light filled the room, casting a golden hue on their beautiful Christmas tree. In that moment, even Aubrey, who typically cared about Christmas only as much as Chloe needed her to, was moved by the spirit of Christmas.

She then lit a candle on the coffee table and breathed in the scent of smoky orchids with a smile. She’d take a small break before going back to the office. She still had a lot to do, but the dull thrum of a headache hadn’t completely gone away and her nose was still distractingly congested. Just the thought of going back to work so soon in this state summoned Emily and Chloe’s voices, chastising her in the back of her mind. So, she stretched her legs out across the couch and turned on the TV. She couldn’t remember the last time she watched TV by herself.

Aubrey refamiliarized herself with the channels, flicking through the hundreds they apparently had. Eventually, it became a little overwhelming, and she put down the remote to make herself a sandwich.

By the time Aubrey finished her sandwich, half a box of tissues, and a David Attenborough documentary, it was already 3:24. She reminded herself she should probably get back to work, but her channel-surfing landed her on a rerun of _Shark Tank_ at the same time. Feeling nostalgic and exceedingly comfortable on the couch, she allowed herself to stay just a little longer.

At the exact same time, Stacie walked through the sliding glass doors of Vision A Robotics. She slid off her sunglasses and admired the abstract paintings hanging in the reception area. She liked the white brick and black, metal accents against the gray floors. There were two sets of stairs going up into a loft area. Below this was a curved reception desk, also white and black. Behind the receptionist, a young man in a maroon vest, was a white partition with an intricate, woodsy design that allowed one to see the rest of the office through the cut-out leaves. At the centre of the partition was the logo, a diamond shape within a circle containing the words VISION A at its center.

The receptionist shot out of his chair, arms stiff at his side like he wanted to salute her. “Welcome, Miss Conrad,” he greeted nervously.

Stacie sent him a smile and a wave while Jessica dealt with the rest.

The two of them were soon led past the partition, into the open-concept office where employees gawked up at her from the tops of their screens. There were only roughly twenty other employees, but there were sitting desks, standing desks, treadmill desks, beanbag chairs, plush armchairs, and hanging egg chairs—the options felt endless. At one end of the room were three glass rooms—offices—and at the other end of the room were futuristic-looking prototypes she couldn’t identify. Stacie knew immediately where she wanted to go and she sighed when they walked right past the prototypes and through the rest of the office to get to the glass rooms.

At 3:47, a bouncy young woman rode into the conference room, the biggest of the three glass cubes, on a hoverboard, clutching a well-worn spiral-bound notebook at her side. She introduced herself as Emily, the CEO of Vision A. She was animated, excited, and her passion was downright infectious. Stacie liked her right away.

“What does the A stand for?” Stacie asked, pointing to the logo at the centre of the conference table.

“Oh,” Emily chuckled, suddenly flushed with embarrassment. “Nothing in particular. I, uh, created a number of vision boards, and this company was at the very top of my list. Vision A.” She grinned. “It’s a dream come true.”

Stacie found herself mirroring her grin. The young CEO was endearing if nothing else. “I can see that.”

At 3:48, Aubrey groaned when _Shark Tank_ cut to commercial right before the presenters announced which deal they wanted to take. She stared blankly at an advertisement for a truck she would never drive, and tried not to think about her inbox.

She picked up her phone from her lap. Just a quick peek.

At 3:55, Stacie realized it was possible to like Emily even more when she offered a tour.

“My office is right over here,” Emily said, gesturing to one of the two other glass cubes as she rolled past. They headed toward another partition with a large framed photo hanging on it. Through the same design, they could just make out a couple of microwaves and several different Keurig machines beyond the curled branches and leaves. “Here’s a fun group photo we took at the Christmas party last year, right outside the break room so we’re reminded of how awesome we are,” Emily explained with a laugh.

At 3:56, Stacie glanced at the photo, where all the employees were crammed into the frame. At the center, someone was covered in cake and red and green tree-shaped sprinkles. She chuckled at an ugly sweater reading “Ho, ho, ho” while accompanied by an image of a leg in fishnets.

It was only for a second, as Emily soon pointed toward the prototypes with her notebook and zoomed away.

But in the second that Stacie lingered at the photograph, Aubrey inexplicably looked up from her phone at commercial featuring a woman putting on face cream and winking into the camera. It was a ridiculous commercial, with flying kiwis floating against the green backdrop, and it annoyed her that the woman only wanted to moisturize half a cheek on each side. Mostly, however, she was hoping it was the last commercial of the break. She was dying to get back to _Shark Tank_.

That second was enough. They both shivered when their souls entwined.

Aubrey blamed her cold when her nose itched and she sneezed into her elbow.

At the same time, Stacie turned to Jessica. “Pretty cold in here, no?” she asked.

Jessica looked back quizzically. “Not particularly. Are you feeling okay?”

“Weird. Maybe it was just a draft.”

Emily waved at the end of the room when Stacie finally caught up. “Welcome to the Nursery,” she said, proudly opening her arm to present the entire room. “This is where all our dreams come true. Feel free to take a closer look!”

Stacie beamed, immediately drawn to the spherical contraption closest to her. _Amazing_.

Aubrey frowned. The man on TV just made a god-awful pitch for a product nobody needed. There was nothing amazing about it.

_Touchless tech, carbon shell, chipped with hidden circuitry, and wow, these wheels—but what the hell is this for?_

Aubrey looked around in sudden alarm. It was a feminine voice, but the only person speaking in the room was the man rambling on defensively about his subscription box of boxes idea. “Hello? Is anyone there?” She called into her empty house. _That’s strange._

“What’s strange?” Stacie mumbled, still deep in appreciation for the machinery before her. She looked around when nobody replied. Emily and Jessica were standing several feet away. Emily was speaking at the same time as she was scribbling furiously into her book, while Jessica watched her, bewildered.

 _Did this thing talk to me?_ She wondered, circling the robot to see if there was a hidden speaker somewhere.

Aubrey sat up. The voice wasn’t coming from the house. _Oh no_.

Chloe told her about this, but she’d never given the myth any credence. Chloe loved Christmas and everything associated with it—of course she believed in this. But Aubrey was logical. Practical. She didn’t believe in monsters, magic, or myths.

This simply wasn’t possible. And for the voice to belong to a woman! This definitely had to be some kind of joke. Aubrey never dated much while climbing up that corporate ladder, but she’d never seriously dated a _woman_ before. She could admit she’d thought about it on more than one occasion, but if all of _this_ were true, this person would be her _soulmate_. That concept in itself was absurd.

She shut her eyes and hoped it was just a hallucination from her cold.

 _The Connection isn’t real,_ she told herself loud and clear.

Stacie, who took a step forward to join Jessica and Emily, froze on the spot. Her heart rate multiplying suddenly. _The Connection_ _?_ _I made a Connection?_

 _Seems that way_.

_No way._

_I don’t want to believe it either, but here you are. In my head. Unless you’re a hallucination, which I truly hope is the case._

Stacie frowned. This was not the kind of conversation she’d hoped for upon meeting her soulmate. _Sorry to disappoint._

“Stacie? Are you sure you’re okay?” Jessica asked with visible concern.

Stacie turned stiffly, her heart beating loud in her ears while butterflies swam nauseating laps around her stomach. A Connection—a soulmate—she’d been wondering for so long.

“Stacie?”

Stacie blinked. “Uh, know what, Jess? I’m gonna head home. Don’t feel so well after all. But, like, love all of this,” she said, flashing Emily a bright smile. “Totally hope we can work together in the future—just let me know what you’re looking for, maybe drop off a proposal with Jess, and yeah. Done. You okay with that?”

Emily grinned, practically vibrating with energy when she rushed forward to shake her hand like she wanted to steal her arm. “It’s my absolute honour, Miss Conrad, you are _not_ going to regret it. I’m _such_ a big fan of your paper on the application of nanotechnology in sociopolitical and environmental sustainability. Like, Vision A would _literally_ not be here without you.” Emily cringed. “Sorry, I’m gushing, aren’t I? And I know—no promises yet—but, like—wow, this is like _everything_.”

Stacie was stunned. Thirty seconds ago, she was concerned about the woman in her head. Somehow, the revelation that there was someone in the world who knew her for her research _years_ ago—this was what rendered her speechless. _Where the hell did this kid find my paper_?

Aubrey, wrapped up now in a blanket in her office, scoffed. _We just confirmed we made a scientifically impossible connection to each other’s thoughts, but clearly, you’re too preoccupied to figure this out._

_Wow, you have a sweet voice, but you’re kinda rude._

“I’m flattered,” Stacie said quickly when Emily began to look markedly uncomfortable. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me—I’m not generally known for my research, so I’m just… surprised. It’s… refreshing. So, thank you.”

She went on until she could make her excuses and leave, her brain slogging on autopilot while her thoughts filled her head like thick wool.

Once she was back inside her car, she had the opportunity to think hard and isolate the noise, so she could speak to the rude woman in her head. Her Connection. Her soulmate.

Jesus fucking Christ, there must be some kind of mistake.

_Excuse me? Now who’s the rude one?_

_What?_ She hadn’t formed a full thought, just a jumble of mixed emotions she hadn’t fully processed as her driver pulled out of the Vision A parking lot. _What did you hear me say?_

Aubrey dropped the pen she was twirling onto her desk. _Nothing_ , she realized with confusion _, you think there’s something wrong with this situation. You’re offended that you were paired with me. Because…wow, you actually believe in this soulmate stuff, don’t you?_

This pissed Stacie off. _How the hell does this rude woman understand things I haven’t even processed yet?_

Aubrey scoffed a laugh. _Because this rude woman can hear your thoughts. Are you an idiot?_

 _You’re just a bundle of joy, aren’t you?_ Stacie rubbed her temple. _I’m talking about abstract thought—you comprehended thoughts that haven’t taken shape or meaning. Can we agree that’s fucking insane and not to mention crazy intrusive?_

When Chloe barged into her room on November 30th, at precisely 11:59, sing-shouting about the Christmas Connection and how this year was _her_ year, she’d laughed and wished her luck. She’d never thought much of it, but now she was stuck with some arrogant idiot in her brain. Surely, this wasn’t what Chloe wanted. She didn’t believe in soulmates herself, but she at least wanted more for her best friend.

 _Wow, you’re right. I just had a sudden epiphany that you’re a cynic on top of everything else. You don’t believe in soulmates, and you certainly don’t believe_ I _could be anything close._ Stacie had to laugh, earning a concerned glance from her driver. _You really don’t like me. Even though you’ve just met me._

_You don’t like me either._

_I hope you’re at least a hottie._

_Get out._

_Gladly. If I could._ Stacie laughed. The woman was a firecracker. Nobody’s talked to her like this since she left her parents' house when she turned eighteen. It would be funnier if it didn’t piss her off so much.

She’d spent her entire life imagining the electric shock and the bells in her ear. The bluebirds, the hearts skipping and all the trimmings that come with it. Vein-popping levels of annoyance wasn’t even close to her radar.

And this…almost masochistic level of curiosity about this rude woman.

 _Hey, what’s your name_? She wondered suddenly.

 _Aubrey_. Aubrey ran a hand down her face at the automatic, instinctive reply. There truly was no chance of privacy with this woman in her head.

 _I’m Stacie_.

_Great._

_You must have a lot of friends._

_You must be one of those people who never shut up._

_God, we’re going to kill each other, aren’t we?_

_Probably._ Aubrey smiled into the blank screen of her open laptop. She’d been so preoccupied with Stacie that she hadn’t thought of her work in over fifteen minutes. But something else bugged her. _Chloe said you could only form a Connection if you look at a photograph of a person. I’ve been home all day—how could I have seen you?_

Stacie drummed her fingers against her crossed knee. She hadn’t even thought of that part. _I’ve been working all around town. Could’ve seen you anywhere._

 _Uh, no. I don’t take pictures. I like my_ privacy, _thank you very much._

_Why am I not surprised? Are you cute, though? Because now I have to know._

_This is harassment._

_This woman_. Stacie shook her head with a chuckle. _Sorry to break it to you, but you must’ve taken a picture at some point, because I had to have seen it._

 _That doesn’t explain how I could’ve seen_ you _._

 _That’s not a mystery. I’m disgustingly famous_. Stacie grinned when she immediately felt the abstract annoyance spilling into her mind from Aubrey’s end.

 _I don’t know a Stacie._ Aubrey huffed, waking up her laptop to type “Stacy” into the search bar. _She can’t be this six-year-old Russian child._

Stacie barked a laugh. _I could be. Are you looking me up?_

She couldn’t hear Aubrey’s response, however, when her driver turned around and asked, “Are you okay, Miss Conrad?”

Stacie grinned into the palm of her hand as she leaned her elbow on the armrest. “Fine, thank you,” she said, shaking her head.

The driver nodded, then turned back to the road, glancing skeptically through the rear-view mirror once more.

_You’re making me look insane, babe._

_Oh my god, I don’t even know you. Don’t call me babe._ Aubrey scowled when another email notification popped up on her screen, though it could not have been further from her mind. _You could be insane, for all I know._

Stacie snickered quietly so she wouldn’t draw more concern from her driver. She suddenly wanted to meet this woman, so she could rile her up in person. _I am insane…ly wonderful_ , she thought, wishing she could send her a wink.

 _Insanely humble too,_ Aubrey replied drily.

Finally arriving at her building, Stacie thanked her driver and stepped out of the car. The quiet was immediately broken when someone smashed a car horn several feet away, followed by an avalanche of yelling. She hurried inside, relieved at the quiet of the lobby.

Inside the elevator, she heard Aubrey again, her voice flat. _You disappeared_.

Her lips quirk into a smile. _You missed me?_

 _No._ The thought smashed into her brain so quickly, it must’ve been reflexive.

_Ouch._

_You’ll get over it_. _More importantly, this means disappearing is a possibility. What did you do?_

Stacie pressed her thumb on the scanner and opened the door to her penthouse suite. At the sound of the door squeaking open, Luna was already waiting patiently at the door. “Hey, cutie,” Stacie said, bending down to stroke her head. She picked up the bag of freeze-dried tuna on the shelf by the door and shook the bag with a grin. Luna meowed gently, looking up at it with her big, blue eyes. _Who’s a good girl?_

 _Excuse me!_ Aubrey’s voice returned, aghast.

 _Not you_. Stacie shot back, bending down to feed Luna a sliver of fish. _Though you strike me as someone who’s been a good girl all her life, with that stick up your ass._

Aubrey gasped. _And you said_ I’m _rude?_

_Facts are facts._

_You know what? I’m gonna try something._ Aubrey scowled as she pulled up her playlist and pumped up the volume. She hadn’t listened to music in a long time, but as she sank into the familiar beats and melodies, she felt a calmness wash over her as her brain slowly drained into emptiness. As it emptied, Stacie grew further away. It was a strange feeling, like floating upwards while tied to someone else—you knew they were there, even if you couldn’t see them.

The music distracted her long enough to remember her emails, and despite the dull pulsing ache in her head, she sat up and got to work.

A message popped up: “Y r u online???????”

 _This kid_ , Aubrey thought. She’d told her many times to be professional in the company chat. She was a CEO now, not a high school freshman texting under a desk while the teacher wasn’t looking.

She waited a moment to see if Stacie would intrude her thoughts, but even as she slowly tuned out the music, it was silent. But Stacie’s presence slowly waded back—she was there, her thoughts churning and tumbling like the white noise of a dryer.

_Interesting._

Unbeknownst to Aubrey, Stacie was, in fact, on the couch rubbing her eyes as she listened to her PR manager drone on about some inane publicity stunt. She was, in her head, busy running through a list of names she wanted to call in order to replace the misogynistic joker.

So, Aubrey shot a message back to Emily and resumed working through her emails, feeling just the slightest bit unsettled by it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for joining me on this first chapter. I fully intended to post the entire story before Christmas, but sadly, my hand kept slipping, and this story is getting much too long! So please bear with me while I finish up. I promise all four chapters will be up before the end of the year ;) 
> 
> For those of you have read Bounty, thank you again for your love and support. You may notice that this story is a bit of an interesting situation in that it is, effectively, an AU of an AU. The dynamics may become a little familiar (though suited, of course, to a non-action thriller setting), and you may find references to Bounty if you squint. I love the characters in that story so much, it became almost unintentional to put them in a low-stakes situation where they could freely fall in love. It's a very different kind of experiment, and I hope you'll find it fun too!
> 
> If you're new to me and my work, thank you for taking a chance on me! I hope you'll stick around :)
> 
> I'll be posting every couple of days, so while I may not finish in time for Christmas, I hope this story will bring a smile to your face and awaken the Christmas Spirit inside you all along.
> 
> Edit: I'm sorry the headings are so big...it's kinda comical how they look like newspaper headlines, but the regular font didn't feel right for it, and I can't seem to make it a smidge smaller.
> 
> Edit 2: I fixed the headings! Hopefully this looks better :) Also...if you're reading this today...I apologize as I may not be able to finish the story before December ends...


	2. The Second Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not a mental health professional in any way, and my understanding of the complexities of human emotion is based entirely on my own experiences and observations.

**CHLOE & BECA - Thursday, December 10th**

On December 10th, Chloe woke up with “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” stuck in her head. The lyrics and the melody blared the moment she opened her eyes, and she jumped out of bed, skipping the few steps to the shower as she sang along. As she counted the days to Christmas, the constant stream of music filled her with endless joy.

In the shower, she sang it a few more times, playfully belting out the echoed lyrics while her own invisible choir sang along. She pictured herself in the old Rudolph stop-motion movie, singing along in unison with the clay deer and the clay elves. Perhaps it was time to start a marathon of classic Christmas movies—everyone had been so busy this year that they hadn’t had a single movie night in over two months. That _had_ to change.

It was only once she turned off the water that she heard the unexpected voice shoulder its way into her thoughts.

_Oh my god—shut! Up!_

Speaking of classic Christmas movies, it was Beca the Grinch, who was almost never up this early. But Chloe wasn’t about to be brought down by the intrusion. Especially when she was having a great time singing “Rudolph”.

 _No way_ , Chloe thought. _It’s a great song!_

Beca was a music snob and hated everything Christmas—the music most of all. Despite the innumerable difficulties of having her thoughts exposed to someone at all times, Beca’s absolute abhorrence of all things Christmas had been the hardest thing to stomach so far. Chloe still hadn’t gotten used to it.

In fact, Chloe was still about 85% sure that the Christmas Spirits made a mistake when they connected the two of them. That, or the whole soulmate Connection was baloney, and she absolutely refused to believe _that_. The only logical explanation, therefore, was that she was put in earth to _help_ Beca see all the joys of Christmas. In every movie, there was _always_ someone to spread the magic. And Chloe—with her endless arsenal of Christmas songs—she was the chosen one.

Maybe once they met in the middle, something will change.

That had to be it.

 _Dude, what kind of Kool-Aid are you drinking this morning._ Beca’s voice was a little fuzzy when it suddenly pierced through Chloe’s resolve. She didn’t seem entirely awake. This didn’t surprise Chloe. It was usually so quiet in the mornings while Beca was asleep. _Holy fuck, it’s already seven?_

_Hey! That Kool-Aid comment was mean…_

But Beca was currently hopping across her apartment with one leg in her jeans. _Fuck, I’m gonna be late._ She pulled the zipper up and patted down the pockets of her jacket. _Keys, keys, keys, where are my fucking keys?_

Chloe frowned a little at the way Beca loved to curse. Always so casual, like too many raisins dropped into a perfectly good oatmeal cookie and ruining the whole thing. _Why are you up so early?_

_Recording session today._

_Ooh! Are you doing a Christmas album?_

_You ask me this every time and I’ve never once said yes._

This was true. Ever since Chloe learned that Beca made music for a living, she’d not-so-secretly hoped to hear Beca sing. It was, she figured, the closest Beca would ever come to carolling with her.

_You should make a Christmas album. Even Dolly Parton released a Christmas album this year. You’re not a real artist until you have one._

Five miles away, Beca threw herself into her car, hungry and grumpy and definitely not in the mood to socialize, even inside her own head. _Dude, can you just stop?_

 _But—_ Chloe had just grabbed two eggs out of the fridge when she felt a rush of Beca’s annoyance pierce through her. It bordered on anger—which she began to recognize as distinctively different than her own. Beca’s anger was a bull charging through narrow streets, desperate for open fields. Chloe’s was a sinking anchor that never quite touched the ground, threatening to be swept up by the strongest storms. She’d never quite get used to feeling someone else’s emotions, especially when they often jolted her senses without warning.

Chloe nearly dropped her eggs, but then Beca was gone. Not completely—never completely, but she felt her very far away, and she knew that meant she was probably distracted.

While Chloe made herself an omelette for breakfast, she idly began to sing “Last Christmas”. Beca must’ve been in her car now, and she wondered what kind of music she liked to listen to when she drove to work. The few times her thoughts had permeated while Beca was at work, she got the sense that she really liked beats. She was always thinking about matching down-beats and tempos, so Chloe assumed she made a lot of cool, electronic-sounding songs. 

While Chloe continued her concert on her bicycle, Beca tripped up the steps into the studio and burst through the doors. Her assistant was there, throwing up her arms. “There you are! Jesus, Beca, would it kill your skinny ass to show up on time?”

“Is she here yet?” Beca asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, she’s in the studio. I entertained her with some sick rhymes I wrote on the toilet this morning—I even rhymed juicy ladies with fat pu—”

“Amy!”

“What? It’s called a slant rhyme!” Amy protested as the two of them sped down a hallway decorated with framed gold and silver records. “I thought she would appreciate it since she’s…you know.”

“Jesus,” Beca groaned.

“In my defence, you were late and I think she really liked it! Secretly…deep, down inside… Bec, chill out—I’m the best rapper in Tasmania. Cynthia Rose loves me, okay? I think we could even collab one day.”

Beca stopped in front of the studio door. “Amy—I love you, but if you don’t stop talking right now, I _will_ murder you.”

_She better not have scared off Cynthia fucking Rose._

“Woah!” Chloe exclaimed, cutting herself off in the middle of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” when she heard Beca speak. _You know_ Cynthia Rose _? Beca…are you_ famous _?_

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Beca grumbled when she stepped into the recording booth. She ignored her, immediately stepping up to the mic to greet her talent with her best smile and her most sincere apology.

Cynthia Rose was a shooting star right now, one that had the potential to defy all laws and become the biggest supernova in hip-hop the world had seen in a long time. It took months to lay out this track to perfection, and months still to find a time to catch Cynthia Rose in between touring and events. This single was going to take the world by a storm—Beca had a feeling.

It had to.

So, this was _not_ an ideal start to her day.

She needed every ounce of focus.

_Oh my god, what is she like?_

Cynthia Rose was polite, but she looked tired as she shot Amy a wary look. Amy must’ve offended her somehow. God, she needed to go back in time and wake up half an hour earlier to avoid all of this.

 _She seems_ so _cool._

She needed to lay out the plan for the day, to sell the vision she’d worked so hard for.

_I love her songs so much!_

She needed a cup of coffee. Maybe an aspirin.

 _Oh my god, I heard she did the most_ amazing _performance for the White House. I’ve been meaning to look it up._

She needed every single thing to be absolutely perfect today.

_I just loved the cover of “Starships” she did with Nikki Minaj—legends!_

But first, she needed Chloe to _shut. The. Fuck. Up._

And Chloe had to stop amidst the honking of the cars trying to swerve around her bicycle when she heard the last words like a thunderclap, and felt them dig deep in her chest. This wasn’t just the bull rearing its head at Chloe—this was something different, an amalgamation of dark, dark emotions that seemed to suck the air right out of Chloe’s lungs. She gripped her handlebars tightly—she couldn’t breathe.

 _What is happening?_ Chloe wondered, grasping at her heart like she expected to pull a dense, heavy, intangible weight out of it. _Beca?_

As she sat there on the side of the road, she felt the weight spread through her body, pulling every fibre within into a tight knot at the center. She was breathless, tense, and it felt like she was falling down a deep, endless hole, and she was never going to see the light of day ever again.

But Beca—she couldn’t hear her, could barely feel her beyond the avalanche of emotions she was wreaking on her.

If Chloe could’ve seen Beca in her studio at that moment, she would see nothing out of the ordinary. Beca was surrounded by her team, her talent in the booth beyond the glass with her band, and she seemed to be sculpting all of them into the soundscape of her dreams. Chloe would see Beca intensely focused, her body moving with the same assuredness as her orders.

But Chloe couldn’t see Beca, and she certainly couldn’t see the way she crossed her arms, gripping them just a little too tightly when the anxiety started to squeeze her throat. She couldn’t hear her voice, shaking almost imperceptibly after years of practice in hiding the overwhelming doubt. All Chloe could _feel_ was an impressionist painting of her slow unravelling, her insecurities, the pressure she put on herself to exceed, and the cinematic repetition of every mistake she’d ever made.

Of course, Chloe didn’t know any of this right then on the road. It was so overwhelming that she was convinced it had to be one massive emotion, not the chimera of so many.

And then, all at once, it all disappeared.

The feeling. The anxiety. The despair.

Beca.

Chloe slowly raised her eyes to the sky. It was a sunny day—a beautiful day. She remembered the joy she’d woken up with, and she reached out, wanting to pull that ugly feeling aside and pour the light in.

But Beca was just…gone.

Unsteadily, she continued the rest of the way to work, wondering and probing to no avail. She sped down the familiar roads quietly as a more familiar kind of sadness took over her. This time, it was a focused numbness that drained the songs right out of her. This, she recognized immediately, was hers.

When Beca finally said goodbye to Cynthia Rose several hours later, she felt the exhaustion and the emotions sweep though her. She threw herself on the couch in her office, silence hitting her hard. Cynthia Rose was amazing and kind, and the track…with a few final adjustments, was going to be good. Maybe even amazing. But when she replayed their session together, all she could recall now was the shakiness of how it all came together, all the times things just didn’t sound right, and of course, the panic attack in the middle of the session where she had to step out like it was her first day.

 _It’s fine now_ , she thought, _it’s done._ She rubbed her eyes.

It would be an hour later, when Beca was scarfing down a sandwich in her office with her assistant across from her, rattling on about her crazy ideas for a future music video, that she realized she hadn’t heard from Chloe in a while. It was strangely quiet, except for the images of fire and tigers and muscled men in shining purple leotards Amy was currently putting in her head. The exhaustion and hunger had tamped down most of her own anxieties, but where was Chloe? Where were the Christmas songs?

The quiet would continue all through the afternoon, where Beca would lose herself in her projects while thoughts of Chloe would permeate her consciousness every once in a while. There was a bit of guilt—perhaps she’d been too harsh this morning; there was a bit of dread—perhaps she’d unknowingly severed their connection before they even got a chance to really get to know each other; most of all, there was a longing she didn’t expect—she missed Chloe, she realized. Her thoughts, her emotions were so different from her own, and being able to carry them around…it was different. 

And maybe she even missed her constant stream of Christmas songs. Just a little bit.

The silence was discomforting. It was almost…lonely.

Stacie dropped by at about a quarter to six, on her way home from a shoot.

“Amy sent me at _least_ ten consecutive pictures of that dog sitting in a fire saying ‘this is fine’,” she said, sliding back and forth across the carpeted floor of Beca’s studio on a vinyl shop stool while Beca tinkered with the mixing board. Bits and pieces of the track played back periodically through the speakers, and in a way, it felt like college all over again—Beca always getting lost in her music while Stacie read her comic books and her magazines while painted her nails, rudely interrupting whenever she pleased. Stacie, to her credit, was always patient, and once waited a record forty-five minutes for Beca to reply.

This was a rhythm reserved for the two of them and their long-time friendship. Stacie was a woman used to getting what she wanted exactly when she wanted it, and Beca was a woman who rushed nothing and bent to no one—nothing about them should’ve worked, if not for a little give and take, a mistake here and there, and a _lot_ of time. And the fact that they could only kill each other so many times before it got old.

“Why?” Beca said eventually, turning to Stacie with a frown.

“It’s our little language for you, Bec. Surprised you haven’t picked up on it yet. One fire dog meme is a minor freak-out, two is a not-so-minor freak-out. We hit about five when you did that Christmas album with Snoop Dogg, but _ten_ , Beca? What happened? I’ve met Cynthia Rose and she’s super chill—can’t be more stress than working with some of the new rising divas.”

Beca grimaced. “If I tell you, you’ll probably think I’m losing my mind.”

Stacie rolled to a stop in front of Beca, both hands pressed against the seat between her legs. “Dude, I’ve seen you scale the side of a house and get stuck on the roof like a kitty cat just because someone made a comment about your height—I think we’re way past that.”

“Oh my god, you really need to let that go,” Beca said, throwing her palms out. “I was drunk!”

“Never. I risked my beautiful face getting you off that roof, and I deserve to gloat about it for the rest of our natural lives,” Stacie said matter-of-factly. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“I just...stayed up too late preparing for today. Woke up too late, and I don’t know,” Beca rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “There’s a lot riding on this, and I didn’t want to fuck it up. But lately…I can’t seem to focus, and the more distracted I am, the more anxious I get—you always feel like you’re missing something, you know? God, I can’t describe it without sounding like I’m crazy.”

Stacie frowned. “Beca, I’m not going to think you’re crazy because you’re…what? an anxious perfectionist? That’s hardly anything new in the fifteen years that we’ve known each other. There’s _always_ a lot riding on whatever you’re doing. Always has been.”

Beca shook her head. “It’s not that part…I’m not talking about that. It’s…ugh it’s gonna sound so dumb. It’s the thing that’s been distracting me.”

“You’re not making any sense, Bec.”

“Well, don’t fucking laugh, okay?”

Stacie held up her palms. “I won’t. Promise. Jeez.”

“I’ve been—god, this is hard to say out loud,” Beca murmured, blowing out a breath. “For a week now, I’ve been hearing, like, a voice in my head. I’d…never heard it before…I don’t know this person, but we…can communicate. In our heads. And I can feel, like, her emotions and stuff…and she can feel mine. Wow, this sounds so bonkers to say out loud.” She looked away, fiddling with a stray thread on her ripped jeans. “Anyway, she’s…pretty different from me, and it’s…hard for me. Sharing my head with someone. Especially with everything else going on. She seems…genuinely sweet, I guess, but still…”

When she met Stacie’s eyes, however, they were definitely not laughing. “You too?” Stacie whispered in disbelief.

“What?”

“The Christmas Connection—that’s what it’s called, right? The old urban legend.”

Beca nodded stiffly. “That’s…yeah, I think so.”

“Oh my god, Bec,” Stacie said, reaching forward to surprise Beca with a quick hug. “I can’t believe it. What are the chances? The both of us…wow.” She laughed, shaking her head as she rolled back to give Beca her space. “I’m so glad I’m not alone, because…yeah, sharing a head with someone is fucking wild.”

Beca blinked. “Uh, are you saying…”

“I also have a person talking to me in my head? Yes,” Stacie laughed. “Though, in my case, she mostly yells at me and calls me an idiot. I’m pretty sure we hate each other, but in a way that’s, like, kinda hot, you know?”

“Dude, isn’t she supposed to be your soulmate, or whatever? I mean, you never shut up about the One, and now that you found her…you hate her?”

Stacie tapped her chin. “Yeah, I admit it did shake my faith a little, but,” she shrugged, “no one really knows what the deal is, so she’s probably not my One. That’s why I’m just kind of having fun with it.”

“Knowing you…I feel bad for her,” Beca said with a chuckle.

Stacie rolled her eyes. “Don’t you dare—you don’t even know the half of it. She’s the rudest, most uptight stick-in-the-mud I’ve ever met. No fun at all. I must’ve fucked up big-time in my past life to deserve being stuck with her,” she huffed. “Now tell me about your supposed soulmate. Maybe you’ve got better luck than me—it’s a low bar.”

Unexpectedly, Beca blushed a little. “You know how I feel about that shit. People leave, Stace—it’s what they do. They aren’t meant to stay together.”

“Yes, yes, you hate your daddy and your evil step-monster,” Stacie said, laughing when Beca glared. “But sometimes people stay and work things out, Bec.” She gestured between the two of them. “We’ve been doing it for years. You can’t tell me our souls aren’t entwined in some way or another.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of shit she seems to believe—you two would probably get along,” Beca scoffed. “She’s crazy about this Connection bullshit. Just…obsessed with everything Christmas. I don’t get it.” Then, she smiled, shaking her head a little when she recalled a little thought she’d overheard this morning. “She seems to think that it’s her personal mission to make me love Christmas as much as she does.”

“That sounds adorable,” Stacie said, grinning. “Like one of those Lifetime movies. At least it doesn’t seem like you hate her with that goopy smile on your face. Dare I say you might even be _like_ her?”

Beca brushed her hair out of her eyes, her lips pursed as she thought hard about the question. “That…” she said slowly, “might be going a bit far…well, I don’t dislike her. She’s just…so happy all the time. Sometimes, it’s really cute.” She added this in quick mumble of syllables Stacie strained to hear. It was like she was too embarrassed to say it out loud, but had been holding it inside for so long that she had to. “Sometimes, I can’t deal with the stress of…I don’t know, bringing her down? And today…everything was just…too much. Anyway, I don’t know. She’s gone now.”

Stacie, who had been nodding along, instantly dropped her smile. “What do you mean she’s _gone_?”

Beca shrugged. “That she’s gone. I don’t feel her. Don’t hear her.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s for the best, I guess.”

“That can’t be right,” Stacie mumbled. “We’ve still got fifteen more days until Christmas—I know because I’ve been counting down. Maybe she’s just busy.”

“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know. Can we talk about something else?”

“Let’s get out of here and get a drink,” Stacie announced, slapping Beca on the shoulder. “Quick break—an hour tops. Get your head cleared.”

“Don’t you have to shoot that perfume commercial tonight? I can’t keep track.”

“When has a wee, little beer ever hurt anyone, Bec,” Stacie said with a grin. “Besides, you need it more than I do. Let’s go, shortstack.”

It would be shortly after 8 o’clock that night, when Beca was back in the studio, no longer feeling the looseness that came with Stacie’s presence or the three beers she’d insisted on. Still, she felt better, more relaxed than she’d been the entire day. She was alone now, after everyone else had gone home. Just her in her office, her old mixtapes quietly playing in the background while she worked. Here, in the serenity of the evening, Beca suddenly felt Chloe again, though not in the way she’d expected.

Her fingers froze on her laptop. _Chloe?_ A sinking feeling hit her—she couldn’t tell if it was hers or Chloe’s.

Chloe didn’t respond. Not with words, but with a tidal wave of sadness beyond anything she’d experienced in a long time.

 _Chloe, are you crying?_ Beca surprised herself with the question—she’d never been good at reading other people’s emotions, but the words slipped into her mind, like she just knew.

And Chloe, who was sitting at her desk with her head buried in her folded arms, heard her dimly. But she couldn’t stop the tears soaking through the sleeves of her white coat long enough to form a coherent thought.

Across town, Beca found herself wading in Chloe’s grief—yes, that’s what it was. She recognized it now. The feeling took her back to childhood, when her father vanished in the middle of the night and left her with a myriad of trust issues. But she pushed those aside now, and she sat there for a while, the feeling slowly ebbing into her own slowly breaking heart. Beca blew out a breath. The more she felt, the more she wanted to protect her, wanted to take her away.

But how?

What if it was her fault to begin with? Beca shook her head and shelved the self-pity onto a high shelf alongside the trust issues. That wasn’t helpful right now.

There was only one thing she knew to do whenever she felt herself sinking into the quicksand. One escape that never failed her yet. 

Beca pulled up a playlist on her laptop, and let the music filled the air. She closed her eyes, channeling all her energy into the lyrics in the hopes that she would reach Chloe.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need._

Chloe lifted her head, gasping for air as she rubbed her eyes with a sleeve. Somebody was singing.

_I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree._

Chloe hiccupped as she slowly regained control over her own breathing. Her eyes felt raw and she was emotionally drained, but she looked around her office. The clinic was closed. There was nobody around.

_Beca?_

_I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true._

Chloe sniffled. Despite everything that happened that day, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. She just couldn’t resist. _All I want for Christmas is you._

Beca sang the rest of the song out loud into the empty studio. With her eyes still closed, she smiled when she heard Chloe’s voice singing along. It was fragmented at first, with the sadness falling away piece by piece to give her voice the strength she’d come to know. By the end of it, Beca leaned her head back against her chair.

 _Feel better?_ She asked.

 _Beca_ … _that was really sweet._

Beca gathered her lower lip between her teeth to suppress a grin, her heart fluttering a little. Then, she grimaced. _That was scary, you know._

Chloe swept a hand through her hair, momentarily distracted by a text from Aubrey, asking if she was coming home for dinner. She pushed her phone away. _Sorry, I…I had to put down a patient today._ She sank back into her chair. _He was special, and…it never gets easier, I guess._

Beca reached for her laptop and pulled the lid closed. _I’m here if you want to talk about it—er, think about it._

_Oh, I don’t want to trouble you…_

_Just try me._

_Well…_ Chloe furrowed her brows as she tried to put everything she felt into conscious, coherent thought. _He was a pit bull mix—his name was Toto, because they’d rescued him from a dogfighting ring in Kansas. I…made a house call when his parents first brought him home._ Chloe laughed. _He bit me, actually, on that first day. But over time, he really was one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever met. He loved everyone with all his little heart. Like, he did this thing where he’d nudge you, but he wouldn’t want anything. He’d just sit there and kind of watch you, like he was just checking in on you and making sure you’re okay. But…the damage he sustained back then…left him with a lot of lingering health problems. We knew this, and we tried…I was in surgery for three hours today, but…in the end…I couldn’t save him._ Chloe rubbed her eyes as fresh tears began to build. _I tried everything I could, but…_

_Fuck…I couldn’t do what you do._

Chloe blinked when she felt a tinge of sadness cross the line between their consciousness. Empathy. She had to smile. _Me neither sometimes…_

_You’re pretty amazing, Chloe. I can’t even watch movies where I know the pet dies. I literally had to walk out of John Wick after I bought tickets and popcorn and everything. My date thought I was such a loser after I left him there, but what kind of guy makes his date pay for everything on a first date anyway?_

Chloe giggled at Beca’s attempt to cheer her up. _Sounds like it was his loss if you took the popcorn with you._

_Hell yeah, I took the popcorn. That shit’s expensive._

Chloe glanced down at her fidgeting fingers with a dreamy smile. _You know, for someone who hates Christmas, you have a pretty soft heart._

 _Don’t tell anyone._ Beca laughed quietly to herself. _I have a reputation to uphold._

_I don’t know—you sang Mariah Carey for me and everything._

_And never again._

_If we ever meet in person…will you sing it for me again?_

Beca blanked—the idea that she might someday meet Chloe in person had never occurred to her before. For someone as honest and pure as Chloe—one who felt so deeply and adored life so completely—she couldn’t even begin to imagine what she looked like. And yet… _how the hell do I say no to her?_

Chloe grinned as she twirled her hair around her fingers. Beca’s earnest subconscious thoughts always seemed to have a way of making her blush. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush sometimes, but she tried not to examine her feelings too hard, afraid Beca might feel it too. It was tough when she was so close all the time, but perhaps the thrill of it was part of the charm.

 _By the way,_ Beca’s voice said softly, _I’m sorry about this morning. It was harsh, and I kind of lost control and it wasn’t cool. It’s been bugging me all day—really scared me too, when I stopped hearing you for a while. I would hate for things to end like that._

Chloe’s heart skipped when she recalled that deep, dark feeling. _Sorry…with what happened this morning and with Toto, I kind of…stayed busy._

_Sorry…_

_You don’t have to apologize, Beca. I’m not mad or anything—well, I guess you can feel it if I was—but whatever you were feeling really freaked me out. It was so…gosh, I can’t even describe it with words._

Beca gripped her wrist. She’d never openly spoke to anyone other than Stacie about her anxiety, but god, the guilt stabbed through her hard—she would never want to subject Chloe to any of it. If they were in the same room, perhaps it would be easier to run away. In her head, however, she could only run so far. And yet, the words spilled out from her mind and into Chloe’s before she even wanted to stop them. It was, strangely, almost liberating.

_I’ve…been working on this album for several months now, and this last song is supposed to be the title track. I had one shot to do this with Cynthia Rose, and I…really wanted it to be perfect. But the more I wanted it, the more I felt like everything was fucked, and it kind of just got…too much. I didn’t want to drag you in, Chloe, but…the truth is sometimes my anxiety can get the best of me, and I can’t always shut that part out. The more I try, the worst it gets._

Chloe didn’t say anything. She simply took her words in and felt Beca’s melancholy and shame pulling her in.

 _I had a panic attack. That’s probably when we lost each other_ , Beca admitted. She ran a hand down her face, and tried not to think about what Chloe thought of her after this. _Believe me when I say I never meant for you to feel all of that. Or any of that. Like, at all._

_Beca…I wish I could give you a hug._

Beca shook her head. _Not sure that would go well. I’m not the most…physical person._

 _Why does that not surprise me?_ Chloe laughed. _What I mean is…I’m here for you. I can’t say I’ve ever felt it…quite like that, but…I’m here. Whenever you need me. For better or worse. So…if it ever starts to feel too much, you just have to call my name, okay?_

_I know you mean it genuinely, but…you shouldn’t feel obligated because we’re stuck with each other for the next fifteen days. You didn’t ask for any of this._

The sudden reminder of their deadline startled Chloe. Fifteen days—that’s it? But she was just starting to get to know Beca, just starting to get used to sharing each other’s mind. There was a simple solution to the sudden emptiness she felt at the brief thought of losing Beca—she stared at the wet splotches on her sleeve to distract herself from hoping and wishing. She didn’t want Beca to know yet how much she wanted to meet her in person, or how fast this crush of hers seemed to be developing every time Beca peeled back another layer of herself.

 _But I want to._ Her honesty rushed toward Beca.

_I know. I just…I don’t think we should get too used to this._

Beneath the turmoil of the day’s emotions, Chloe’s fear and insecurity ran deep in her subconscious when she drifted off to sleep that night.

She’d been waiting so long for this, heard so many stories. She’d always focused on the good ones but now that she was staring destiny in the face, all the bad ones brewed, flashing subliminal signs without her noticing. All the emotions burning between two people—on days like today, where everything became too much.

All the mismatched couples fizzling out of love once the Christmas Spirit departed.

The way every relationship she’d ever had eventually fizzled out of love.

Why would Beca be any different?

She was right—they shouldn’t get too used to this.

They shouldn’t, but…she wasn’t going to deny herself the warmth Beca exuded into her mind. For now, just learning to exist, to think, to feel in tandem, raising each other up and learning to hold each other when they fell down—this was good. This was enough.

For now, this was enough.

**STACIE & AUBREY - Friday, December 11th**

Aubrey’s eyes flew open at exactly 6 o’clock. She was warm, bundled tightly in her blankets, but something felt very, very wrong.

On this morning—an hour before her alarm was set to ring—a firestorm seemed to rip right through her. She was, she realized in horror, _incredibly_ horny. In a way that she hadn’t felt in…god, she couldn’t even remember. She’d certainly never before been so aroused that it would wake her up from deep sleep. She never remembered her dreams, but this _had_ to be beyond any of her own imagination. No, she felt like she was barrelling toward an orgasm, and she hadn’t even moved.

 _What the_ hell _is going on?_ Her mind raced. She curled onto her side, her hand reaching for the elastic of her pants like it was possessed. _Oh, my god._

_I’m so close—oh, my god, I’m so close—fuck—_

Aubrey stilled, her entire body burning up at the sound of Stacie’s voice echoing in and out of her consciousness. _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

_Oh, yes—yes—!_

Aubrey gasped. She could feel the pressure rapidly building, her hand still lingering on the edge of her elastic. _Jesus, Stacie—_

Their connection snapped, replaced by an almost blinding wave of white-hot pleasure penetrating through her entire body. Aubrey moaned quietly into her blanket as she curled tighter, shivering a little as she felt Stacie’s presence slowly pouring back into her brain. _Oh my god,_ her mind mumbles blankly.

_God, I needed that._

Stiffly, Aubrey pushed her hair out of her face and slowly rolls onto her back. _What the_ fuck _was that?_ She was breathing hard as she glared up at her ceiling.

_Woah, you’re up early._

_Because you woke me up with—with whatever you were doing!_

_Dude, you heard me masturbate?_

Aubrey flushed. _I_ felt _it, you idiot. That’s what woke me up! What the hell were you—it’s six o’clock in the morning! How do you wake up_ that _horny at six in the morning?_

 _Wait, did you just say you_ felt _it?_

_I swear to god, if you say something stupid…_

_Oh my god, did we just fuck? Like, a_ literal _mind fuck._

_I’m going to kill you._

_Mm, I can’t wait._

Stacie burst into laughter as she tossed the rest of her pajamas onto the floor and stepped into her shower. She sighed as the hot water hit her skin. “God, that was good,” she whispered to herself with a grin. Being able to drag Aubrey into it and piss her off—even better.

Meanwhile, Aubrey twisted and turned in her blankets as she tried to go back to sleep. She flipped onto her front and groaned loudly into her pillow. She could still feel the lingering arousal, which only seemed to amplify the anger she harboured toward Stacie. Because who the hell does _that_ at six in the morning?

Stacie considered herself lucky that Aubrey still didn’t know what she looked like. She knew exactly how many times she considered buying a voodoo doll in the week they’ve known each other, and if Aubrey had a picture of her face, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was pinned up on a dart board somewhere. They seemed to have a real knack for pushing each other’s buttons, and Aubrey found herself drifting toward all kinds of curses and exorcism techniques to regain her privacy again. After all, if the Christmas Connection was real, other urban legends must be real too.

Stacie, of course, found this immensely entertaining, and while she did not always enjoy Aubrey’s company, she didn’t mind her presence at all. It was almost comforting to have someone in your brain with you. Even so, she was convinced now, after seven days of constant bickering, that the Connection wasn’t all it was hopped up to be. Because Aubrey couldn’t possibly be her soulmate.

Her One was going to be special. She was going to fall heads over heels in love, fighting against all odds, and they were going to be _amazing_ in every way. Emotionally, spiritually, and _definitely_ physically. She suspected the way their arousal bounced off each other this morning was how she arrived at one of the best orgasms she’d had in a while, but the rest of it? Definitely not.

Eventually, Aubrey must’ve gone back to sleep because it was silent all through the rest of her morning routines. At seven, she felt Aubrey stir as she opened the door for Jessica.

 _Good morning, sleepyhead_ , she thought while she fixed their routine cups of espresso.

 _Don’t talk to me,_ came Aubrey’s reply.

Stacie snickered. _Don’t worry, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I’ll try not to get you_ too _hot and bothered throughout the day._

 _Don’t flatter yourself_. Aubrey was fuming.

_Now, you’re just challenging me._

_You don’t get to be so smug when you’re psychically linked to me_ and _inconveniencing me with your issues._

 _My god, you’re always_ so _fun to talk to, you know that?_

“Stace, you ready?” Jessica asked. “We’ve got a full day ahead, so I’d like to get started.”

“Yep, lay it on me.” Stacie sighed, then turned around to slide a cup of espresso across the counter to Jessica. 

Two hours later, ensconced comfortably in her office after a nice big cup of coffee, Aubrey was working away at her computer when someone suddenly bursts through the door. From the way the door clattered against the glass wall and shook the entire room, she didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Aubrey!”

Aubrey sighed, removing her glasses for a moment to rub her eyes. “Em, please. You can knock without trying to bring down my entire office.”

“Sorry,” Emily said with a sheepish smile that said she was definitely going to forget within the next two seconds. She was standing on her hover-board, looking like she was going to fall over at any moment with one hand on her door and another wrapped tightly around her ever-present notebook. “But—but—but—today’s the day!”

“What are you talking about?”

Emily gasped. “Did I not tell you? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter since you’ve got your hands full with other things. Don’t worry, I’ve got it all under control, and it’s gonna be super amazing for the company and I—”

“Emily…”

Emily swallowed. “Sorry…I guess I forgot to tell you. We had the big investor meeting and the new Tardi-G prototype, and—”

“Get to the point, Em. Please. Before I exceed my worry-meter and kill everyone in this building and then myself.” Emily blanched. “Sorry,” Aubrey added hurriedly, “rough morning.” 

“Um, okay. Well, it’s not a big deal,” Emily said uncomfortably. “Miss Conrad accepted my proposal for the marketing campaign, so she’s coming in today to discuss things.”

“Marketing campaign? What marketing campaign?” Aubrey said, her voice definitely squeaking at a higher pitch than before.

“It’s for the new birdwatching app Ash came up with, remember? We were going to roll it out to consumers for free so we could get data for Ornie? We’re gonna do a whole thing about how Ornie is going to use the data to super-scan massive areas so we can track migration patterns and population and stuff.”

“But I’m already in the talks with New Zealand about Ornie. I thought you were holding off on a global launch. You said you were worried about the implications of a massive super-scanner or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’m still working through that,” Emily said, wrapping her hair around her fingers, “but I thought we could go ahead on the app? I mean, Ash said we’re pretty much ready to launch within the week… Anyway, I don’t think it’ll impact your thing with New Zealand that much?”

“Emily,” Aubrey groaned into her palms, “you really have to tell me these things. It doesn’t matter if you think it’ll impact me or not. Let _me_ be the judge of that. I can’t read your mind and I can’t do my job if you don’t let me know what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Emily said, looking down with a slight pout. “I’ll be better—I promise. I’ll buy you lunch to make up for it?”

Aubrey scoffed. “Just stop daydreaming about tech and use it to text me once in a while. You have a phone, don’t you?”

“It’s in my office,” Emily laughs uneasily.

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t keep leaving it in my office and I’m being irresponsible and I need to take my leadership role more seriously, and you’re not my mother,” Emily said, counting off her list with her fingers.

“Cheeky.”

Emily flashed a lop-sided smile. “You’re the best, Aubrey, you know that? If you’re free at eleven, you should come by the meeting. You’re gonna _love_ Miss Conrad. She’s _so_ much cooler in person.”

At a quarter to eleven, Stacie was sitting in her car, browsing idly on her phone when she decided to annoy Aubrey a little bit. _Wonder what colour underwear Aubrey is wearing today._

Aubrey paused her fingers on her keyboard and rolled her eyes. _Don’t indulge her_ , Aubrey told herself. She’d learned early on that nothing gave Stacie more joy than getting a rise out of her.

Stacie smirked. _I bet you’ve got a matching set. I’m gonna guess beige. You seem like a beige kind of person who colour-coordinates everything._

_Do you seriously have nothing better to do right now? I’m working, you know._

_Clearly not that hard since you can hear me._

_God, did you not get enough attention as a child?_ Aubrey threw down her glasses, picked up her mug and stood up, deciding to get another cup of coffee since Stacie was clearly hell-bent on making sure she got nothing done.

_Actually, no, I didn’t. I lost both parents as a baby and was raised by an abusive grandmother._

Aubrey stopped with her hand on her door. _Oh…_

_I’m kidding. My parents live near Pittsburgh._

Aubrey closed her eyes and took a deep breath when she felt that increasingly familiar spike of annoyance. _You’re such an asshole._

 _I know._ Stacie laughed as she stepped out of the car. _Something about you makes me want to pull in your pigtails all the time. You’re just so easy to annoy._

 _You just never stop._ Aubrey walked into the empty break room and popped a K-cup into the machine. She crossed her arms, leaning her weight slightly on the counter as she waited for her coffee. _Anybody would get annoyed._

 _Maybe_. Stacie grinned and waved to the flustered-looking receptionist. _You wanna know what I’ve decided?_

_If I say no, you’ll tell me anyway._

_You know me so well. I decided you’re probably one of those women who hide behind your scowling and your whole icy schtick, but when you take off your glasses, you’re actually beautiful all along._

Aubrey snorted. _You’re ridiculous. I’ll keep my glasses on, then._

Stacie didn’t reply, and Aubrey simply shrugged, grateful for the silence. Little did she know, Stacie was currently standing across the room, on the edge of the Nursery, while Emily excitedly shook her hand. Despite the aggression in that handshake, the young CEO’s flustered excitement reminded her why she’d been looking forward to this campaign for a week.

“Right this way,” Emily said, rolling excitedly toward the glass cubes. Once they settled inside, she gestured to the tray of festive cookies at the centre of the room, all trees and ornaments decorated with glittery green and red sprinkles. “It’s almost Christmas, so I baked some cookies for us last night. Help yourself when you get in there, and I’ll go find my developer,” she paused to flash a sheepish smile, “we lose track of her sometimes when she’s on a roll. Can I get you anything else while I’m at it? Coffee? Tea? Water? Soda? Kombucha?”

“I’ll take a green tea, please.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Jessica replied when Emily looked at her expectantly.

Aubrey was taking a sip from her mug when she saw Emily zipping around out of the corner of her eye.

“Ashley, where are you?” Emily called as she passed the break room. Catching sight of Aubrey, she doubled back and grinned. “Aubrey! You’re outside! Woo! Come to the meeting—it’ll be fun!” Emily glanced ahead, where Ashley was just stumbling out of an egg chair. “There you are! Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Coming!”

“Oh, shoot!” Emily mumbled before she could dash off, “Aubrey, do you mind grabbing me a green tea for Miss Conrad? Please, please, please, please? I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Aubrey sighed, but before she could say anything, Emily had zipped away. _Jesus, I’m the COO for fuck’s sake._ She grabbed a mug from the cupboard anyway. The interns got lucky.

At that moment, Stacie was in deep discussion with Jessica about the proposal in front of them. She was munching on one of Emily’s cookies, nodding as Jessica repeated back the list of changes she wanted to propose. Unexpectedly, Jessica stopped in mid-sentence when a brunette with a silver laptop entered the room. She stopped too when she noticed them sitting at the table. Stacie raised a brow.

For as long as she’d known Jessica, she had always been on top of things. Composed, organized, professional, though not without a sense of humour. She’d never seen her freeze like this.

“Ash, why are you standing in the doorway?” Emily asked, tapping her on the shoulder.

The moment was gone when Ash, the woman with the laptop, seemed to mentally shake herself from her gaze. She hurriedly took a seat across from Jessica. Emily, unphased by it all, sat at the head of the table, leaving an empty seat across from Stacie.

Stacie made a mental note to ask Jessica about this woman later, but the note would not stick around for long.

Introductions went around and the meeting was ready to begin. Stacie was reaching for a second cookie when the door opened unexpectedly. She looked up, confused because she’d assumed all the key players were already here.

She slowly retracted her arm as she took in the perfectly curled blonde hair, and the emerald blouse that brought the green out of her piercing gaze. _Wow_ , Stacie thought. _This woman is gorgeous._

The blonde’s fair skin lit up in bright pink.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing that tea,” Emily said, as she got up to relieve the steaming mug from the blonde’s hand before rounding the table to deliver it to Stacie. The entire time Emily moved, the blonde’s eyes were on Stacie.

 _This must be some sort of joke_.

Stacie pushed aside Aubrey’s voice. The blonde pulled out a chair and sat down across from Stacie, every move she made was graceful and self-assured, and the way her unwavering gaze pinned her down, the way the cherry red of her lips contrasted against her skin...Stacie forgot to breathe.

Until Emily spoke.

“Miss Conrad, this is Aubrey Posen, our COO. And Aubrey, you know Miss Stacie Conrad, I’m sure."

_Oh. Fuck._

_Oh good, you caught up._

Out loud, however, Stacie managed a toothy smile despite the silent screaming of her heart. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey.”

Aubrey smirked. “Likewise.”

Stacie’s stomach flipped.

Emily continued the meeting, going over details of the proposal, with Jessica responding to the proposed changes. This left Stacie plenty of time and headspace to stare, because god help her, she could _not_ stop staring at this woman.

 _You need to stop_ , came Aubrey’s voice. She was pretending to read the proposal in front of her.

_I can’t. I can’t believe you’re real…and so damn hot. You should’ve told me so I could mentally prepare._

Across the table, Aubrey lowered the sheet of paper in her hand to level a glare that sent shivers down Stacie’s spine. She blushed again, and Stacie grinned, her heart soaring.

_You’re not the frat boy wannabe I expected either._

_You know…seeing you in person really gives our morning mind fuck a whole different level._

Aubrey’s jaw tightened. _Don’t you_ ever _bring that up again._

“Stacie?” Jessica’s voice jolted both of them back to the meeting.

 _Lucky you, because I will most_ definitely _bring it up again._

“What’s up, Jess?” Stacie said with a grin when she saw Aubrey glower at her paper from the corner of her eye.

“The big change you wanted to propose?”

“Oh, yes!” Stacie straightened in her chair, her eyes scanning the room briefly, lingering a beat longer on Aubrey, to land squarely on Emily. She pulled her focus forward excitedly. “Let me just start by saying this series of ads is a great idea. It’s got the story, the message, and I can already think of all the ways we can cut it down for other platforms. Super happy you want me to get in on that. This mini documentary series you’re proposing, however, I want to recast the host.”

Emily frowned. “But…you’re the host, Miss Conrad. I thought we agreed.”

Stacie nodded. “We did, and honestly, it would be a good opportunity for me too—flex my brain for the world, as it were—but Jessica and I talked about it, and we agreed there is a far better candidate for the documentary.”

“Who?”

Stacie leaned forward with a grin. “You.”

Emily’s jaw dropped a little. “ _Me_?”

“Yep.” Stacie rose from her seat and walked over to Emily. Across the table, Aubrey’s eyes followed the movement, roaming over the length of her body and over her legs. Her mind suddenly flashed to this morning, her imagination conjuring up the way those legs must’ve looked spreading open over tangled bedsheets. _Oh my god_. _No, no, no, no_. Her panicked eyes darted up to Stacie’s face. _Why the hell did she have to bring_ that _up?_

She was clutching Emily’s shoulders now, saying something or another with that sexy grin of hers.

She was distracted—thank god.

“Aubrey, what do you think?” Emily asked with an uneasy look in her eyes.

Aubrey jumped a little. “Um…”

“About Emily’s big debut in film,” Stacie said with a little wink as she threw her arm around Emily.

Aubrey closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get a handle on the steady rise of her fury. “Filming anything will take at least several months,” she said slowly. “Taking Emily away from the company for that long could be pretty detrimental, especially with the timeline of the Tardi launch. A lot of investors are interested in this project specifically. The Ornie app might be mass market, but on the business end, I’m not sure we should be prioritizing it over Tardi-G.”

“What’s Tardi-G?” Stacie asked, dropping her arm to address Emily directly.

“It’s actually called Tardigrade-G, but I was listening to ‘WAP’ a lot when I was working on the design, so I thought it was a cute way to pay homage to Cardi B.” Emily laughed, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

“Darn, from the name, I was hoping you’d invented a sentient spaceship-time-machine.”

“Um, no? Tardi is an exoskeleton designed to withstand record highs and lows in temperature. It’s named after, like, the, um—the water bears.”

Stacie raised a brow. “So…not a Whovian, then, I take it? Well, still sounds pretty amazing.”

Emily nodded slowly, though the confusion was still clear on her face. “It is, but obviously it’s too expensive for the consumers, so we are only marketing it to specific places right now. Firefighters, Antarctic scientists, forest rangers, people who will use this kind of technology for good,” She explained. Then, she turned to Aubrey, gesturing vaguely as she spoke. “But Ornie has a lot of potential too, Aubrey. It’s not just for birds. A super scanner like that, we could eventually scan the ocean, or a forest. We could track poachers and illegal forestry operations logging. It’s _big,_ Bree, and we gotta start somewhere.”

“Yes, I know, but starring you in a documentary is going to take you away from _both_ projects. I don’t agree with this.”

“Listen,” Stacie said, moving a step closer toward Aubrey. She smirked when she noticed her flinch, but commended her for standing her ground. “Aubrey, is it?” She teased, pressing a palm to the table, one hand on her hip as she leaned in, so close that she could see the details in her eyes. “If you’re in the business of making money and keeping the operation going in the long run, I think you’re overlooking something amazing over here. Emily has a magnetic personality, and an amazing brain. Easy on the eyes too,” she winked, grinning before returning to Emily’s side, leaving Aubrey embarrassingly flustered and a little winded because _what just happened?_

“Emily will draw a lot of attention to this company,” Stacie continued. “You’re a role model and an inspiration to young girls wanting to be in a male-dominated field, whether you know it or not. I think it’s the right move, but you’re the boss, Em.”

“Aw, jeez, Miss Conrad, that’s…really nice of you to say,” Emily said with an embarrassed but glowing expression.

Aubrey glared. “Well since you seemed to have made your decision, I will leave you all to it then.” She rose, leaving the proposal documents on the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”

_Aw, why did you leave? We were having so much fun._

_Shut up,_ Aubrey shot back as she closed the door behind her in the safety of her own office.

_Are you angry or are you turned on? I’m feeling a little bit of both._

_God, you’re the absolute worst._

Aubrey sat down at her desk just in time to see Stacie and Jessica leave the conference room with Emily and Ashley. They crossed over toward the Nursery, disappearing into the room. Aubrey groaned, burying her face in her hands. Assured by the quiet of her mind, she released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

 _She has no right showing up here looking like_ that, she thought sulkily. Those dancing eyes, the sweater cropped inches below her breasts in the middle of goddamn December—but those abs and those _legs_ in those moulded blue jeans and _this morning._ Aubrey ran her hand through her hair. Stacie was right—she was simultaneous both angrier and more turned on than she could ever remember being. _This woman is fucking infuriating._

Almost an hour later, Aubrey was scrolling through lunch options on her phone when her door flung open, slamming against the glass wall. She sighed, though she kept her eyes on her phone. “Emily, do we seriously need to have another conversation about doors?”

_Hello, beautiful._

Aubrey nearly dropped her phone when she looked up to see Stacie in the doorway, leaning against it with her arms crossed. She was grinning her unceasingly annoying grin, and still looking just as delicious as she’d last seen her an hour ago. _God, seriously?_

“What do you want?” Aubrey said out loud. It was a strange feeling, standing so close to Stacie. Their thoughts were like white noise, the subconscious flickering between their shared consciousness. She could feel Stacie studying her on every level, just as Stacie was sure to feel her do the same.

The physical attraction between them was undeniable. The only problem was the intensity of it, pinging off on both ends, and the simple fact that she’d spent the last week loathing this connection beyond anything else.

From the way Stacie’s emotions seemed to pulse in every direction, she must’ve felt the same.

Stacie’s lips tugged into a smirk. _I want to pull you over that desk and do unspeakable things to you._

Aubrey flushed crimson in spite of herself. Out loud, however, Stacie said, “We were just wondering if you wanted to join us for lunch. Emily’s treat.”

 _Is this fun for you? Pissing me off in every way imaginable at every moment of every day? And is it not enough that you find ways to torment me in your head, but you have to come into my_ workplace _to do it in person?_ Aubrey glared.

_It is fun, actually. You’re more expressive than I imagined you to be._

“Thank you for the offer,” Aubrey replied coolly, “but unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you for lunch.”

_So, you can just shove it right up your ass._

Stacie’s brows shot up. _Wow, you get kinky when you’re angry and turned on._

“That’s a shame. I was hoping we could get to know one another,” Stacie said. “We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other around here, after all.”

Aubrey’s smile was tight. “I look forward to it.”

 _Liar_. Stacie laughed. “Alright, then,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll see you next Tuesday.” With a final wink in Aubrey’s direction, she closed the door and left. _For the record_ , Stacie’s voice continued in her consciousness, _you really piss me off and turn me on too._

Aubrey scoffed, shaking her head. _Why is that not reassuring?_

_Because we hate each other and now we want to tear the clothes off each other._

_Excuse me!_

_It’s an irrefutable truth given we can feel and understand each other’s thoughts and feelings no matter how abstract. There is no logical explanation for this travesty of a dilemma, but there’s no point in denying it._

Stacie greeted Jessica by the elevator, where Emily asked them to wait while she grabbed the car. “She’s not coming,” Stacie informed her.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you bothered to ask,” Jessica said, raising a brow. “She wasn’t exactly friendly.”

“No,” Stacie chuckled.

 _I wasn’t going to deny it,_ she suddenly heard Aubrey say. _I look forward to the day you mature enough to put action behind your dumb jokes._

Stacie stuttered as she was entering the elevator, the door jostling her shoulder. “Ow, fuck,” she mumbled. _What the fuck?_

_Why am I not surprised that you can’t handle what you dish out?_

“Are you okay?” Jessica said, startled. “What happened?”

“Uh, zoned out for a bit.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot,” Jessica replied with a frown. “And you look like you’re burning up. Maybe we should take a reschedule and get you home.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Stacie said, flashing her best smile. “Seriously, Jess. You worry too much.”

_Are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying?_

_Why do you sound so flustered?_ Aubrey smirked as she returned to casually scrolling through her lunch options. She should’ve known that two could play at Stacie’s game. _I thought you said we understood each other’s thoughts and feelings, no matter how abstract. Perhaps you didn’t notice, but I’m a very digitally meticulous person—I don’t keep a lot on my desk._

Stacie swallowed as she tugged at the collar of her sweater, unsure how to respond when her entire brain seemed to suddenly shut down. The image of Aubrey seated on her desk seemed to take precedent before anything else. She pictured her beautiful green blouse entirely undone, her bare legs crossed, teasing as she peered at her from over the rim of her glasses. She shivered a little, the image disappearing like smoke when Jessica nudged her out of the elevator.

 _You’re quiet, but I still feel you there_ , Aubrey said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Stacie shook her head, focusing her attention on the beautiful Tesla Emily pulled up.

_I see. You’re right, this is fun._

Stacie was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve, everybody :)
> 
> This chapter was so much fun to write, especially the Staubrey section, as I'm sure you could tell. I tried to keep it as light as I could, but I really felt like I would be remiss not to explore the complex rollercoasters of our everyday lives, both the good and the bad. For better or worse, Bechloe's part will probably be as angsty as it gets in this story. Also, if anyone feels like maybe Chloe is a little TOO extra...that may be because I definitely watched videos of Brittany Snow as Marnie Tethers. Please Google this if you don't know what I'm talking about--it's good for your soul. 
> 
> If you enjoy this story so far, please do leave a comment. It lets me know how I'm doing, and helps me share in the spirit of Christmas :) If you're enjoying this, but you're shy, please take a moment of your time to donate a little kudo. 
> 
> The rest of the chapters will be up before the end of December, so please subscribe if you don't want to miss out :)


	3. The Third Week

**CHLOE & BECA - Tuesday, December 15th**

_Good morning, Beca_.

Chloe was sitting in her kitchen, sipping on a mug of tea when she felt Beca’s consciousness awaken inside her brain.

 _Fuck, I left the curtains open…ow, I’m blind…_ _hi, Chloe._

Chloe giggled as she scrolled through her phone to glance through the morning’s headlines. None of them were particularly funny, but she wasn’t registering anything she was reading anyway. _She’s up early again,_ she was thinking.

_Yeah, I’m supposed to have brunch with some important people at the label…but I don’t want to._

_Uh oh. What would you rather be doing then?_

_I guess I’d rather stay here._

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat—it’d been doing that a lot lately. Beca must be laying in bed, but it felt almost intimate in the silence of the calm morning. Like they were tangled up together in the warmth of their blankets, the sun in their face as they planned to hit the snooze button a few more times.

 _What are you up to today?_ Beca asked, easing her out of the warm, fuzzy feeling she’s sure she’s projecting into Beca’s brain. If it bothered her, however, she gave no indication.

_I’m taking the day off to help my friend with some things. Her company is doing some kind of photoshoot, and she wants me to help her out. Apparently, there’s been some tension about the whole thing._

_That sounds like a headache. One of my friends is a model, and I used to go to her shoots all the time—can’t say I ever enjoyed standing on the sidelines being surrounded by Amazons. It’s such a tedious process too._

Though Chloe couldn’t even begin to picture what Beca looked like, she vaguely pictured her surrounded by supermodels, all bronzed and toned and six-feet tall as they wrapped themselves around Beca. Something prickled in her chest uncomfortably.

_Chloe? What’s happening?_

_What?_ Chloe blinked, reaching for her mug again without realizing when she’d even put it down. Her heart was racing.

_I just felt something weird. I recognized the anxiety, but there was…a bit of anger too?_

Chloe felt her cheeks flare up. _Darn it…_

_Wait, Chloe…are you jealous?_

She couldn’t exactly help it, so she didn’t bother lying. _Yes._

_Oh. I…don’t know what to do with that._

Chloe smiled and shook her head. Beca was always so earnest. It was one of the many things Chloe liked about her. She felt things as much as Chloe did, and she was so sensitive and so sweet, even when Chloe could feel her discomfort dripping into her own consciousness. It was almost impossible not to fall for Beca.

And the easiness of their new morning routine didn’t exactly help curb the crush.

She couldn’t tell if Beca had noticed yet, though she often found herself daydreaming about what she might look like and how their hands might fit together. She wondered whether their natural voices would sound good together if they ever got to duet “All I Want for Christmas”. She found herself listening to that song over and over and over, as if every other Christmas song had somehow, impossibly, lost their shine in the last five days.

Sometimes, she could feel Beca’s happiness wrap around her, inexplicably distinct from her own, and she wondered if Beca daydreamed about her too.

 _Unless she’s got tons of supermodels to think about._ Chloe sighed, then glanced at her watch. Aubrey left about an hour ago to get things ready for the shoot. _Guess I should get going_.

 _I don’t have a lot of supermodels to think about,_ Beca’s voice said with a hint of amusement. _Unless you’re a supermodel_ came the quiet, subconscious add-on.

The corner of Chloe’s lip lifted into a grin as she tugged on her signature antler helmet. _You know I’m not_.

 _Then…there’s nothing to be jealous of._ Chloe’s stomach did a little flip. Surely, she knew. But before she could sort out her thoughts, she felt Beca tug away. _I just got into the car. Gotta stay focused for this meeting, but…chat later?_

 _Yeah, of course. I’ll be around._ When it was quiet again, Chloe found her finger twirled up in her hair _like a lovesick teenager!_ She chided herself, dropping her hand like it was on fire. _Oh my god, get it together_ , she told herself as she marched forward and tugged her bicycle off her wall.

It was easier said than done, of course. She was halfway to Vision A when she realized the only song she’d been singing was the same little Mariah Carey number that’d been stuck in her head for five days straight. _Oh no_ , she realized. Perhaps she should never meet Beca in person if just the voice inside her head was enough to make her feel this way.

Meanwhile, Beca was on her way to a fancy hotel for her brunch meeting, none the wiser. She thought only of her performance the last few weeks and the numbers they were projecting for this next album. The single was set to launch in four days, with the entire album dropping ten days later, in time for New Years Eve. The schedule was tight, and she was sure the studio execs were worried after her last freak-out.

But things had been good since then, since making peace with the woman in her head. She was starting to get used to the musicality of Chloe’s voice, and the positivity she always carried into her side of their shared consciousness. She was getting so used to the way Chloe’s voice scattered the darkness whenever her anxieties bled over that she was starting to imagine it even when she wasn’t there. It started with a simple, “It’s okay, Beca,” but slowly, it began to evolve. She sensed the mental gymnastics rewiring itself to artificially create Chloe’s optimism. Something like: “If you don’t like the way it sounds, Beca, just put some jingle bells in it! I guarantee it’ll make any song sound better.” Thinking of little Chloe-isms always made her laugh.

It was frightening how well it worked.

To rely on a person she couldn’t put a face to—it was scary as hell, and the time ticking on their shared connection certainly didn’t help.

It was around 11 o’clock when Chloe arrived at Vision A. It had been a while since she visited, and she stopped to admire the new logo they’d put up behind the reception area. The nervous receptionist shot up when he saw her.

“H-hi Miss Chloe,” he said, looking like he wasn’t sure whether he should bow or not.

Chloe leaned her bike against the front desk for the receptionist to store later and unbuckled her helmet. She took a moment to wipe the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand before giving the man behind the counter a bright smile. “Hey, Benji! Didn’t we talk about the whole Miss thing? I’m not your boss, you know.”

“Sorry,” Benji said with a small, sheepish smile. “You’re not my boss, but…Emily looks up to you and Miss Aubrey so much that it doesn’t feel right.”

Chloe fixed him a stern look. “You know, Benben, if you want to marry Emily one day, I’m gonna have a hard time giving you my blessing if you plan on being a stranger forever.”

Benji’s eyes widened. “I-I’ll…I’ll work on that, Mi—Chloe.” He winced as her name fell out of his mouth like it physically hurt him.

Chloe would feel bad if Benji weren’t so fun to tease. She’d known Emily as long as Aubrey had known her—all three of their mothers had met through collegiate acapella and as a result, became lifelong best friends. She and Aubrey, being the same age, were often tasked with taking care of the clumsy baby Emily while the adults sipped their wine in the kitchen. Emily had come a long way since the days in which she’d get her head stuck between the posts of the upstairs bannister all the time.

Emily was a brilliant ball of energy taking on the world, and sweet Benji, whom she met in their first year of university when she was only sixteen, was so heads-over-heel in love that he didn’t even mind waiting the two years it took for the robotics-obsessed Emily to notice the evolution of their friendship.

Benji had an array of hobbies and interests, and he might have pursued any of them professionally had he not decided—when he was eighteen years old and Vision A was years away from becoming a real idea—to support Emily in everything she did for as long as he could. He loved taking care of Emily above everything else—anybody with eyes could see it when they were together. Sometimes, he’d fuss over her a little too much in Chloe’s opinion, but Emily, with her head often high in the clouds, never seemed to notice. They were adorable together, and Aubrey often sent over pictures of Emily and Benji eating his home-cooked lunches at the reception desk just to prove it again and again. So, if Benji wanted to marry Emily or vice versa, Chloe would give her blessing in a heartbeat.

“Listen, Benji,” Chloe said seriously, “Emily asked me to come here today to help her out with the photoshoot, but she didn’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh…right,” Benji said with an uneasy grin. “Everyone is just setting up the Nursery for the photoshoot right now, but...” He trailed off, looking around uncomfortably.

“Is this about Aubrey?” 

Benji turned to peek through the partition, then nodded gravely. “She was here earlier…but, I think she might be in her office now, since Miss Conrad is due to arrive any minute now.”

“Oh. That’s kinda weird. This doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing she’d be so…hands-off about,” Chloe said, drumming her fingers on the counter. “Is this the thing I should be concerned with?”

“Yeah, but,” Benji mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, “well…I don’t want to disrespect Miss Aubrey. Em wanted me to fill you in…I just…don’t know where to begin.”

“Well, this can’t be good,” Chloe said, making a face. 

Benji glanced around again, even though they were the only two people on this side of the partition, then leaned in with a whisper, “Miss Aubrey has been acting kinda weird since last week. The office rumour is that she doesn’t get along with Miss Conrad. Nobody really knows why, but something must’ve happened in the meeting last week. A few people said they heard Miss Conrad invite her to lunch with everyone else, but…she refused to go. Since then, she’s been extra grumpy, and none of us really know what to do.”

“That…doesn’t sound like Aubrey at all. I mean, grumpy, yes, but she wouldn’t let that get in the way.”

Benji nodded. “I agree. Miss Conrad is a big deal for the company. Em told me they didn’t really agree on the whole documentary thing, but…it’s still weird. Miss Aubrey’s had lunch with some pretty awful investors just to get our name out there, so I don’t know why…”

Chloe frowned. “Now that you mention it, Bree didn’t even tell me about Stacie Conrad. I heard about it from Emily. And she’s, like, a pretty big deal.”

Benji nodded again, more emphatically this time. “Maybe you can figure out what’s going on…because Em’s been really stressed about the whole thing. I think she feels guilty about not including Miss Aubrey more?”

“I doubt that’s the case. You know Aubrey can’t stay mad at little Emily,” Chloe said, shaking her head.

“I told her that too, but…I guess she doesn’t know what else to think.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll see what I can figure out. Maybe I’ll see if I can get her out of her office first.”

Chloe was just about to step away from the reception desk, when she heard the glass doors sliding behind her. She turned, just in time to see a tall brunette taking off her sunglasses while a blonde woman trailed behind her, her attention focused entirely on her phone. “Good morning, Benji!” The brunette said with a blinding smile.

 _Wow, this has to be her. She’s even prettier in person_.

“G-good morning, Miss Conrad.”

“And hello there,” Miss Conrad said, stopping in front of Chloe to hold out her hand with a friendly smile. _Woah, and she smells nice too._ “I wasn’t aware they were bringing in other models for this shoot. I’m Stacie Conrad.”

Chloe blinked. An awkward beat passed where she couldn’t quiet seem to comprehend the words coming out of Stacie Conrad’s mouth. “Um…I’m not a model, but I’m, uh, flattered?” she said, surprising herself with how starstruck she felt. She didn’t know Stacie Conrad very well, despite how recognizable she was from the millions of ads she seemed to be in, but there was something powerful in the way she carried herself. She hadn’t met many celebrities before, and she wondered whether they all had this overwhelming confidence about them. Plus, she was undeniably beautiful to boot. None of this boded well for Chloe’s ability to function like a normal human being.

Stacie’s brows shot up. “I’m surprised. You’re very beautiful.” She grinned when Chloe blushed, too stunned to take her hand. “That wasn’t meant to be a come-on,” she said, laughing lightly, “you don’t have to look so scared. I meant it objectively—I think the cameras would love you.”

“Thank you?” Chloe said, stiffly taking her hand.

Stacie gave it a firm shake. “You’re welcome, Miss…”

“Chloe,” she managed to say without stuttering. She still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. “Uh, just Chloe.”

“Well, Chloe, what brings you to this fine establishment?”

“Oh, um, I’m just visiting,” Chloe replied with a small smile. Before she could elaborate, however, she heard the familiar whirr of a hoverboard.

“Chloe! You’re here!” She barely managed to let go of Stacie’s hand before she received an armful of Emily, squeezing her tightly. “Omigosh, I haven’t seen you in sooooo long! Thank you so much for coming!”

“I know,” Chloe laughed. “Everyone’s been so busy.”

“Welcome back, Miss Conrad,” Emily said, beaming as she unwrapped herself from Chloe and moved to shake Stacie’s hand like the constant ball of energy she was. “We’re almost all set up!”

“No problem at all,” Stacie said, “you’ve got me all day.” She turned to the blonde woman standing several steps behind her, who confirmed her statement with a quiet “yep” without looking up from her phone.

“Awesome,” Emily said. “You don’t mind if Chloe hangs around, right?”

“Oh, not at all. Maybe I could inspire you to join the industry,” Stacie said with a wink.

Chloe laughed, a little more relaxed now with Emily in their midst. “Thank you, but I’ve kinda got my hands full with the little kittens and puppies who need me.”

“That’s too bad. It sounds like you could make an adorable calendar.”

“Um, maybe,” Chloe said with a nervous laugh as she tugged at the strap of her backpack. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna go say hi to Aubrey and drop off my stuff in her office. I’ll see you guys out there in a bit?”

“Yes, please! See if you can get her to join us?” Emily said, her big eyes flashing hopefully.

Chloe laughed. “I’ll try, but you know how she can be.”

“Hm, you’re friends with the wonderful Miss Posen, are you?” Chloe looked up, surprised to see the mischievous glint in Stacie’s expressive green eyes.

“I think friends is an understatement,” Emily laughed. “They practically raised me together.”

“Cute,” Stacie replied.

Stacie’s smile faltered then—so briefly, Chloe thought she might have imagined it at first. But then her gaze seemed to pierce right through her, sizing her up like a lion stalking her prey. _Interesting_ , Chloe thought, swallowing a little at the abrupt shift. _That’s funny._

She’d recognize the jealousy anywhere.

Nearly two hours later, Beca was back in the studio, poring over her track list when her phone suddenly lit up.

“HELP” the message in her notification said. It could only be from Stacie. With a sigh, she tore off her headphones and picked up her phone. 

“What?” She typed back.

“Remember how I accidentally met my Connection in real life and found out she’s basically the hottest woman on earth, and now I’m like ??? because I want her so much even though we hate each other???”

Beca scoffed. “Yeah, hilarious every time.”

“Yeah, for YOU,” Stacie wrote back with several fuming red faces for emphasis. “Well apparently I have competition.”

“For what?”

“UM Aubrey’s ass, obvs!!!”

“You really know how to set feminism back sometimes, you know that?”

“Shut up. I snuck a pic on break, look at her standing next to Aubrey like they’re besties, how dare she be so gorgeous too I wanna be in the middle of this sandwich bec”

Beca opened the picture. It was a little blurry and taken at a strange angle, but she recognized Aubrey from the company website photo Stacie had sent last week during her freak-out. She was talking to a redhead with bright blue eyes, whose distracted gaze seemed to be on something off-camera. Aubrey was beautiful, classic in the old Hollywood kind of way with her blonde waves and green eyes, but this redhead— _Wow, gorgeous doesn’t do her justice,_ Beca thought, zooming in on the photo with a pinch of her fingers. She was something else altogether.

_Who?_

Beca swallowed when Chloe’s voice filled her brain with the single syllable. She felt that quick stab of jealousy, like little needles pressed against her consciousness.

_Just a picture my friend sent._

_Is it someone you know?_

_No_. Her subconscious, unhelpfully, added, _but I’d like to._

_Beca!_

But in spite of what she said that morning, Beca couldn’t stop staring at the redhead. There was something so mesmerizing, so…familiar, yet she was sure that she wouldn’t forget someone so beautiful.

 _There’s just something about her_. _Her eyes…_

“Damn,” was all she wrote back.

 _I guess you do like your supermodels after all,_ Chloe huffed. But Beca didn’t hear her when her phone pinged with a new message.

“They’re probably just friends right???”

“Hard to say.”

“Bec can you please for once in your life just try to make me feel better?? I don’t mind if you lie to my face.” Beca laughed—she could almost picture the stupid pouty face Stacie wore whenever she couldn’t get her way.

“Then yeah, they’re probably boning.”

“NOT HELPFUL!!!” 

“Maybe you should stop bullying Aubrey, then. That could help your chances.”

“…but she’s so fun to piss off. She’s glaring at me right now and it’s so hot,” she wrote back with a series of drooling emojis.

“You’re so weird.”

 _Beca…you said I didn’t have anything to be jealous of…_ came Chloe’s voice vaguely. But Beca’s attention was pulled in multiple directions when she kept finding herself scrolling back up to the blurry photo.

_Would it be creepy to download this photo? She’s just…wow..._

“Ugh gotta go,” Stacie’s new message read, “can we hang this week?”

Beca swiped over to her calendar before texting Stacie back. “Nope, they’re coming down on me about the deadlines. Won’t be seeing daylight until the 23rd. Then the launch party on Christmas Eve.”

“Boo. Are you gonna come over for the afterparty? Popcorn and Die Hard.”

“I don’t know. Kinda wanna just sleep for at least 48 hours.”

There was a slight burning in her chest that she noticed for the first time in the last several minutes. She pressed a hand over her heart while she held her phone, waiting for Stacie’s reply. _Fuck, I can’t breathe._

“Conveniently right through Christmas. Guess I’ll just drool over Holly Gennero by myself.”

Beca chuckled at Stacie’s message, imagining her unimpressed face and dry voice to accompany the words. But the ease of her conversation with Stacie seemed directly at odds with the undercurrent of emotion she felt inside—this anger wasn’t hers, she recognized dimly.

“Yep. You better go before your blonde mistress punishes you.”

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

 _So whipped_ , Beca thought with a smirk as she put her phone down. In the quiet, she honed in on the slowly simmering feeling, but she couldn’t hear Chloe’s voice.

She waited several moments, then shrugged. Something was making Chloe angry—maybe she’d want to talk about it later. Little could she know that Chloe was, in that moment, standing at the edge of the Nursery, watching Stacie Conrad stroll across the room with all the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how captivating she looked in front of the camera when she smiled. She was thinking of Beca and her supermodel friends, Beca and her celebrity clients, Beca…who must’ve had her pick of women like Stacie.

It was unfair, but she was furious at her own heart for setting herself up for disappointment. Because that warm affection she felt pouring in from Beca’s side when she spoke of the photo—that was new. And it was real.

Chloe gripped her elbow tight, her heart beating hard against her ribs.

Beca’s headphones were halfway over her ears when the anger finally materialized into a bitter voice. _Is there something I should know about you, Beca?_

 _What do you mean?_ Beca asked, dropping her headphones back around her neck. Her stomach flipped, and something in Chloe’s voice made her feel incredibly guilty, though she didn’t yet know why.

_You know, something that tells me I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t develop any feelings for you whatsoever?_

_Uh…_

_Do you…are you…_ Chloe’s voice faltered between white noise. _Nevermind._

There it was again, finally pushing into her consciousness—Chloe’s jealousy. This time, her frustration felt like a knot in her throat, followed by a light wash of sadness. Beca tightened her grip on her headphones while her heart inevitably fluttered. _Are you jealous again?_

_I can’t help how I feel…especially when you seem to…have feelings for someone else…_

_But…I don’t?_

_Maybe not yet, but the woman in the photograph…I felt it._

Beca laughed. _I don’t even know her, Chloe._

Chloe didn’t reply.

 _You really like me, don’t you?_ Beca mused, fiddling with the cord running from her headphones.

_Maybe._

_You don’t even know what I look like or how I act. What if you can’t stand me in person?_

_I think…if we can exist in each other’s thoughts and feelings for a whole month, it’ll be okay…_

_Yeah…that’s probably true._

_Yeah._

_I’ll miss this, you know. I’ll miss you,_ Beca’s subconscious added.

Beca closed her eyes, regret churning in her stomach when silence filled. She tapped her fingers on her fingers on her knee, wondering if she’d scared Chloe away with the kind of honesty she never would’ve said out loud.

Miles away at Vision A, Chloe leaned against the wall, her hand on her chest when her heart threatened to leap out. There was that warm affection again, though she couldn’t tell which side it was coming from.

_Come to my Christmas party, Beca. I want to meet you._

Beca raised her eyes, blankly staring into the space in front of her. _What?_

_I want to meet you._

Beca scoffed and shook her head. _You would be so disappointed._

_I_ _’ll be the judge of that._

_Maybe..._ Beca blew out a breath before putting her headphones back on. Deep down, she wanted to meet her too, but nothing was more salient than her ever-present doubts, and she didn’t want to project her panic onto Chloe’s side. Because as attached as they were, they were still strangers in many ways—she could never live up to someone like Chloe. Someone whose mind was so whimsical, whose soul was so bright, whose heart captured all the love in the world.

Beca was just…Beca. She was an anxious mess, a cynical grump, and god, she couldn’t even get to work on time most days. Who the hell was she kidding?

If they were to lose each other eventually, she didn’t want to make it harder than it already was.

**STACIE & AUBREY - Saturday, December 19th**

“You can’t be serious—please tell me you’re joking right now, Chloe Beale, or I will seriously, seriously lose my lunch.”

Chloe looked up as she was trying to shove her massive rainbow binder into her backpack. All the kids had gone home now, and it was just the two of them in the empty basement of the church. Chloe’s children’s choir was set to perform on the evening of Christmas Eve, where after the performance and the obligatory mass, they would return to their apartment with their friends for the afterparty. What started as a way to escape their crazy families for the holidays had been their tradition for the last three years. Aubrey knew what Chloe _really_ wanted was for their families to visit next year to finally see what they’d been up to, but as nauseous as the idea made her, it wasn’t half as bad as the news Chloe just gave her.

“Well, she said she wasn’t doing anything,” Chloe said with a sheepish smile. “Her best friend is bailing on her, and she doesn’t have any family here, so…it felt wrong to _not_ invite her, you know?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Chloe, what kind of magic eggnog did you drink to make you feel like inviting _Stacie fucking Conrad_ to our Christmas party was a good idea?” Aubrey’s voice was climbing now, almost as furiously as she was pacing around the carpet. “The Christmas party. At our house! In our _home_!"

“I just said—”

“I mean, you don’t even know her! You’ve met her _twice_ Chloe!”

Chloe shrugged. “We text sometimes. She’s pretty funny.”

“You _text_?” Aubrey threw up her hands. “Oh _good_ , well, you must be best friends now—as long as you _text_ and all.”

“Oh my god, why are you so mad?”

“I’m not mad!” Aubrey whipped around, glaring at Chloe with enough force to jolt her. “I just…don’t…trust her.”

Chloe laughed as she zipped her backpack closed. “You don’t trust how hot you find her, you mean. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Bree.”

Aubrey blushed, doubling down on her scowl. “She’s a model. Anybody with eyes can see she’s pretty or whatever,” she grumbled.

Chloe shook her head as she shouldered on her backpack. “I have eyes, but I don’t use them to look at her like _you_ do, Bree. God, you always do this.”

“What?” Aubrey said, crossing her arms.

Chloe sighed, walking past her with a slight shake of her head. “Push people away.”

Aubrey scoffed. “I don’t do that,” she huffed, taking two quick strides to catch up with Chloe.

“Okay,” Chloe said slowly, “but you find _reasons_ to whenever people show interest in you. And believe me when I say I think Miss Conrad is _very_ interested.”

“She isn’t,” Aubrey said, rolling her eyes. “Not in any genuine way. Believe me.”

Chloe was fishing her key out of her pocket to lock up the room when something about Aubrey’s voice caught her attention. She tilted her head. “How do you know?” she asked.

Aubrey stiffened. “I just do.”

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” Chloe said, narrowing her eyes.

_Oh god, do I tell her? No, no, this is insane. She’d never believe me._

_Oh, hello, beautiful._

Aubrey shut her eyes. _Sweet baby Jesus, not now._

_I_ _was just about to have a nice, afternoon yogurt. What better time to chat with my literal bosom buddy? Or, were you just about to confess your undying love for me to a friend? Is it Chloe? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Chloe knows._

_Shut up and eat your yogurt, Stacie. I’m not talking to you right now._

_I can eat and think at the same time, babe. Besides, you never want to talk to me. I’m so lonely, I’m almost tempted to do a little self-exploration just to get your attention._

“Aubrey?”

Aubrey’s attention snapped back to Chloe. She could feel the heat of Stacie’s teasing and Chloe’s concern burning up her face. “Sorry, I…zoned out a little bit,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot,” Chloe said, her hands on her hips now. “It’s not like you, Bree. What’s going on?”

Aubrey blew out a breath and made her way down the church steps and onto the sidewalk, if only to avoid Chloe’s scrutiny for a moment. “I can’t tell you,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

_Ashamed of me, Miss Posen?_

_In a sense._

Chloe caught up easily, nudging her slightly in the shoulder as a reprimand for trying to get away from her. “I’m worried about you, you know. You haven’t been yourself in the last couple of weeks.”

“Neither have you,” Aubrey said, raising a brow as she unlocked her car. “I mean, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m actually getting sick of Mariah Carey. You’ve got, like, _thousands_ of Christmas songs to choose from, and you won’t stop playing that _one_ song.”

“Hey! This isn’t about me—don’t you dare,” Chloe said, shooting Aubrey a look from across the top of the black Mercedes before climbing into the passenger seat.

Aubrey sighed as she sank into the driver’s seat. The drive home and the impending conversation would be enough to keep Stacie out for a little while at least. _But do I tell her?_

 _You know, I don’t mind if you tell Chloe about us. It’ll probably take some weight off your shoulder_. _You’ve been so stressed out lately. I don’t know why you keep everything so close to your chest—it’s like you_ want _to go crazy._

_And whose fault is that?_

_What, mine?_

_Yes. I blame you and your stupid documentary idea setting us back._

_No, you don’t,_ Stacie’s voice said in a way that she could definitely picture that self-satisfied smirk of hers. _You’re worried about the budget, the investors, and the market—things that are generally out of your control. I think you agree with my idea deep down. You just don’t want to tell me I’m right._

_God, you’re insufferable sometimes._

_I know. You love it._ _Seriously, though, I keep telling you to take a break. Literally no one will notice if you respond to an email a day late._

Aubrey’s finger hovered over the ignition button. _If I tell Chloe about us, will you stop texting her?_

_No promises. She’s a great conversationalist, and I enjoy our chats. While we’re changing the subject, what are you wearing today? I loved that blazer you wore last week—oh, but it’s your day off today, isn’t it? A nice comfy sweater and jeans? I bet you’d look so cuddly in a big sweater._

Aubrey ignored her. _Don’t you worry that we’re getting a little too entangled here? We’ve only got…six more days together?_

_Not at all. I fully plan to continue pursuing you once our connection ends._

Aubrey frowned. She glanced over at Chloe, who was silently watching her with interest. Internally, she tried to parse through Stacie’s subconscious to see if she was joking. _You’re serious,_ she realized with confusion.

_I am._

_Why?_

_I find you very interesting, and I’m attracted to you. Simple as that. Besides, I still want to know whether you’re my One or not._

_I…thought that was clear._

_I thought so too, but now I’m not sure._

Aubrey cleared her throat when she felt something warm fill her mind. She turned to Chloe in the hopes of distancing herself from the feeling, because all of this was just far too much for her to process right now. “Sorry,” she apologized again, dropping her hand into her lap rather than starting the car.

“Welcome back?” Chloe said with a small smile. “Where did you go?”

“I was…talking,” Aubrey said, running a hand through her hair, “to somebody.”

Chloe furrowed her brows. “Just now?”

Aubrey nodded slowly, looking out the window at a passing car to avoid Chloe’s eyes. “That’s what’s been happening. Since the beginning of December, I’ve had…someone in my head. I couldn’t even be sure they were a real person…but now I know…they definitely are. And I have…a lot of mixed feelings about it.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Chloe said, her jaw hanging as she excitedly slapped the top of the glove compartment. She was practically jumping out of her seat, her bright blue eyes lighting up even more than usual. “Oh. My. God. Aubrey, are you telling me…not only do you have a Connection, but you’ve _met_ your Connection? In real life? Like, they’re a real flesh and blood human being you could see, hear, taste, smell, and touch?”

“That’s a creepy way to put it, but yes,” Aubrey said, furrowing her brows. “I knew you’d be excited, but to be this excited…”

“Because I have it too!” Chloe said, gripping her forehead in disbelief. “Oh my god, I can’t believe—this whole time…why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why…didn’t you tell _me_?” Aubrey crossed her arms. “Your Connection hasn’t been tormenting you, has it?”

“Oh, god no,” Chloe said, a gooey grin taking over her features. “She’s…really great.”

“Oh,” Aubrey said, softening a little at the way Chloe seemed to melt into her seat at the mere thought of this person. She was happy for her—Chloe had waited a long time for this—but cautious too, because she’d seen this look on her face many times before. She was running headlong into her feelings and setting herself up for disappointment.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Chloe said with a sheepish smile, “and the truth is, I don’t know if she’s going to be anything different just because she’s some Christmas miracle. But…I really like her. I think…well, I _feel_ like she likes me too. She’s just…too afraid to meet me in person. Which…I can understand, I guess. Like, what if she isn’t attracted to me when she sees me?”

“Trust me, Chlo, it’s probably easier that way,” Aubrey said with a humourless laugh. “It’s a lot less awkward.”

“Maybe,” Chloe said with a shrug. “But I’m still jealous. I want to meet her so badly. What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“Meeting your Connection!” Chloe grinned, her excitement ebbing off in waves. “Was it like in romance novels where you looked at each other and just _knew_?”

Aubrey scoffed, far louder than she intended. “You know _something_.” It wasn’t hard to recall the anger dancing around the intensity of their attraction. Not when she’d been battling it on a daily basis for a week now. “I think this month would’ve been a lot easier to bear if I never met them. I would’ve been happy if we could go our separate ways and laugh about this ridiculous, infuriating experience until the day I’m not even sure it happened.”

Chloe gasped. “But your Christmas Connection is your _soulmate_. I mean, some people say you can have multiple soulmates, but even if you have just one—and you were lucky enough to meet this person? It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

“How people present themselves and how they think and feel are two different things, Chlo. And given how intrusive this whole thing is, I think it’s too easy to misconstrue this to be something more…but when Christmas comes,” Aubrey glanced over at Chloe with a sigh. “Once things go back to normal, things will change.”

“I don’t…want things to go back to normal,” Chloe said with a frown. “Do _you_? I mean, we were given a one in a million chance. You getting to meet your Connection too—what are the odds of that?”

“Pretty high when they keep showing up at your workplace, actually” Aubrey said drily.

Chloe stared.

And stared.

Then, she opened her car door, stepped out onto the side walk. She took in a deep breath of the winter air, then one more for good measure. Aubrey watched Chloe turn in a circle, her eyes wide as they stared at her from the sidewalk until she snapped back into reality long enough to slide back into the car.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, squeaked. “Your Connection is Stacie Conrad?”

“Yes,” Aubrey laughed at the comical shock on Chloe’s face. “We were just talking about her. I thought it was obvious what I was insinuating…”

“Yeah, but…like, world-famous model, actress, designer, apparently-a-robotics-researcher-at-some-point, Doctor Stacie Conrad.”

“You forgot the part where she’s also an arrogant idiot and her spirit animal is a college frat boy,” Aubrey added with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh my god, this is _perfect_ ,” Chloe murmured, running a hand through her hair.

“What? No—are you listening, Chloe? I can see and hear her thoughts and feelings. She isn’t—ugh,” she exhaled in frustration, “the Stacie you know and the one I know are two very different people. Like I said, I _know_ how she feels about me, and ugh, can you please just cancel her invite to the Christmas party?”

Chloe pressed a hand to her chest, seemingly affronted by the very idea. “No way!” She cried. “She’s _definitely_ coming now. I’m not letting you throw this opportunity away—I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She doesn’t exactly hate you, so whatever you _think_ she’s feeling—”

“Jesus, Chloe,” Aubrey groaned, leaning her head back against her seat. “I never said she hates me.”

But Chloe wasn’t listening as she went on. “I’m serious! I think she really, really likes you. I mean, these Connections aren’t black and white—we don’t get every single thought and feeling and we never really know for sure, so…”

Aubrey rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted by this entire conversation. “She does like me. I know that,” she admitted quietly. “She said she wanted to keep…pursuing me after Christmas. Whatever that means. I’m not some wench in a tower waiting to be rescued by anybody. _That_ is the problem.”

She avoided Chloe’s eyes—she could already imagine the hearts in them when she squealed, “Omigod, Bree, that is sooo cute. You guys have been sharing your thoughts and feelings for a whole month _and_ you’ve seen each other at work, but she still wants to see you…I love you very much, Bree, so don’t take this the wrong way, but…that’s kind of a Christmas miracle.”

“Chloe!”

Chloe raised her hands defensively when Aubrey snapped a glare her way. “I’m just saying! That’s what I’ve _been_ saying! You don’t exactly make it easy for people to get close to you, you know. Give Stacie a chance.”

 _A chance to do what, exactly?_ Aubrey thought, shaking her head. “Things will go back to normal, Chlo,” she repeated, more to herself than anybody else. After that, it would take a _real_ Christmas miracle for things to work out.

Several minutes later on the other side of town, Stacie was washing her yoghurt spoon and quietly singing along to the music filtering in from her living room when her phone began to ring. She took her time, drying the spoon and her hands before strolling back to the living room where she’d left her phone on the coffee table. Beca’s name and picture lit up her display. She chuckled—Beca rarely called, so she seldom got to see the unflattering photo she snuck of Beca from the chin-up while she was sleeping in her seat.

She pressed the green button and dropped herself onto the couch. Luna joined her soon after, angling for attention with her soft purr. “What’s up, Bec?” She said, smiling when Luna nudged her hand.

“Hey,” Beca replied. She sounded exhausted, which she likely was when she’d sent a GIF of Batman slowly putting his face in his hands at 4 AM the previous night. “They moved the launch party to Boxing Day. Kill me now and put me out of my misery. Do you still wanna do _Die Hard_ on Christmas Eve? I just want to get real fucked up and not think about _anything_ for a while.”

Stacie clicked her tongue. “You know I love getting fucked up with you, Bec, but…I kinda promised I’d go to this party?”

Beca was quiet for a moment. “On Christmas Eve? But you hate Christmas parties.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly say no to this one.”

“Why? Did your mistress ask you?” Beca laughed.

“Oh my god, stop calling her that!” Stacie screeched. “You know what it does to my little heart. And no, she didn’t ask me…not directly. Do you want to come?”

“Uh, do I…want to come…to a party…with a bunch of strangers…to watch you make an ass of yourself…on Christmas Eve?” She said slowly. “Hard pass.”

“Oh, c’mon, Beca, it’ll be fun! Her roommate will be there—obviously, because it’s at their apartment or whatever—you know, the redhead? She’s super sweet, and I think you’re gonna love her.”

Silence. Stacie grinned—she was considering it at least. “Maybe.” Beca sighed audibly. “Maybe…it’s just…I don’t know, it’s Christmas Eve.”

The last day.

“Yeah,” Stacie said quietly. “I get it.”

But Beca went on, mumbling without conscious thought as she tried to wade through the exhaustion long enough to untangle everything in her head. “I still don’t really know what to do about my Connection, Stace.” Stacie leaned back to quietly listen, welcoming Luna onto her lap as she gently stroked her fur. “I mean, I really like her…and it’s not that I don’t want to meet her, but I can’t…imagine how it could work out in person. Like, it’s hard enough making room for her in my head, but making room for her in my life? Not to mention, Chloe gets jealous…and I’m…not exactly the type who knows how to make anyone feel secure about their feelings, or whatever. So…I don’t know. Maybe…this is all in my head anyway and nothing’s really real…like, I’ll wake up to the silence on December 25th, and it’ll be like nothing happened at all.” Beca groaned in frustration. “Fuck…why do I feel like I’m cheating on her if I meet anyone else? This is so fucking weirdballs, like—we’re not even together. We’ll probably never meet…”

As Beca talked herself into circles, Stacie nodded, making only enough noise for Beca to know she was listening. Even if she wasn’t listening—not really. Not after Beca slipped up. All this time, she’d been so secretive about her Connection, so embarrassed by this mysterious voice in her head, this ideal she held so close to her heart that Stacie had never asked.

But there it was, a name that echoed now in the chambers of Stacie’s mind, because—could it be? Did such coincidences really exist in real life?

_Chloe._

_What about Chloe?_ Came Aubrey’s immediately snappy response.

Normally, Stacie would tease her about her mother bear instincts, but Stacie was still churning the idea in her mind. Her hand had stopped, and Luna, fed up by the lack of attention, gave her a small meow and leapt onto the floor.

_Stacie?_

“Yeah?” Stacie said, frowning when she couldn’t decipher who called her name.

“You really think I should go?” Beca replied.

“Uh—to Aubrey’s Christmas party?”

“Yeah…just…maybe meeting someone else will…help me move on from all of this…eventually, I guess.”

 _My god, she sounds so sad_ , Stacie thought, biting her lip. _Do I tell her? No, I shouldn't...but knowing her..._ “Just come, Bec,” she found herself saying. _Then we can know for sure._ “Keep me company and make sure I don’t make an ass of myself, if nothing else. And just…keep an open mind, dude. You never know. Christmas miracles do happen.”

“I think I’ve already used all my miracles up on Chloe,” Beca chuckled fondly. “Even if nothing comes out of this…I’m glad I met her.”

“Aw! I love when gushy Becs comes out,” Stacie said with a grin, “but that also means you need a nap.”

“Nope, we’ve still got a _lot_ to do…I’ll sleep when I’m dead, I guess. Or when this is done. Whatever comes first. Hey, Amy just got back with the coffee, so I’m gonna take off. Still a maybe on the 24th, but…yeah, maybe see you then?”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“Maybe. If you can find a way for me to avoid speaking to anyone, then I might lean toward a yes.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

Stacie blew out a breath when she hung up. She got about two seconds of silence when Aubrey’s voice smashed through. _What was that about Chloe?_

_Do you know if Chloe has a Connection?_

Aubrey, who had just taken off her shoes, looked up across the room, where Chloe was humming her godforsaken Mariah Carey song and twirling toward the Christmas tree, playing a couple of keys on the piano next to it before falling into the couch with an almost lovesick sigh.

_She does…she told me about it just earlier actually…not sure how I didn’t notice it. Why do you ask?_

Stacie stood up, running her hand through her hair as a sudden nervous energy overtook her. _Do you know who it is?_

_No…well, she wasn’t very specific._

_Okay…okay, okay, okay, okay._

_What’s going on? You’re sending me a lot of white noise right now._

_I need to see you, Aubrey. Right now._

_What? No, that’s not—what?_

_Where are you?_

_I’m at home—wait, no, this is insane, you can say whatever you want right here. Hello—psychic connection?_

Stacie groaned into the palm of her hand. _Please, I feel like…I need to see your face and hear your actual voice. Just indulge me, okay? For Chloe._ Stacie grabbed her jacket and her seldomly used keys from the wall.

_Fine. There’s a park near my place._

Thirty minutes later, Aubrey was standing on the sidewalk, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, and her lips frowning into the folds of her scarf. Waiting.

It was a strange feeling to be waiting for a woman who’d been, for the last two weeks, trapped in her mind in more ways than one. Stranger still was how much she seemed to be looking forward to it. She couldn’t stand being in the same room as her while others were watching, couldn’t stand the thought that they might give themselves away somehow—Stacie had undermined her authority once, and she didn’t want to give anyone reason to do so again.

But this time, the thought of being alone with Stacie in every sense of the word was as exciting as it was dangerous. They’d been on thin ice recently as it is when the constant teasing and flirting started becoming…something else. Something bordering on fondness—like they almost _cared_ about each other.

Aubrey jolted when a sleek, red Ducati skidded to a stop right between two parked cars right in front of her. The driver, whose long, sensuous body she’d recognize anywhere, turned off the engine and pulled off the red helmet, shaking the locks around her shoulders.

 _This is ridiculous_ , she thought despite her pounding heart. Stacie was not supposed to get more attractive every time she saw her—it just wasn’t possible.

“Hey, beautiful,” Stacie greeted with that adorable grin of hers as she dismounted her motorcycle and approached her with her helmet under her arm.

Damn, she was a vision in her black jeans and leather jacket.

Aubrey swallowed, despite her mouth feeling exceedingly dry. She was grateful for the giant scarf hiding half her face. “So, we’re just saying everything we’re thinking out loud now?” Aubrey said drily.

Stacie laughed, falling into step beside her as they followed the sidewalk into the entrance of the park. It was early evening, but the street lamps were already aglow. The park was quiet, but not empty, providing the perfect ambience to their strange meeting. “Your voice sounds different in person,” she said. “I like it. Except when you used that overly-polite, low-key furious customer service voice.”

“Not all of us have the privilege of being so universally beloved,” Aubrey mumbled.

“Universal minus one,” Stacie corrected.

“You say that like I hate you,” Aubrey said with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t.”

“I know,” Stacie said, fiddling with the strap of her helmet. “To be honest, this month has been weird, but…kinda nice. Once you’ve been in here,” she tapped the side of her head with a finger, “I don’t have to pretend with you. It’s a rare thing in my line of work, you know. To not have to live up to anyone’s expectations and just…be myself.”

“It probably helps that we led with our worst foot forward,” Aubrey said.

“And I won’t apologize for any of it,” Stacie laughed. “Not even about waking you up at six in the morning.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes once more. “Of course not. I’m assuming you didn’t call me out here just to make me relive an old trauma.”

Stacie stopped. “Trauma? Wow, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?” She smirked when Aubrey turned to her, her expression hidden behind her scarf. “I think the only way I could’ve came harder was if you were right there under me.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened as they scanned the park for anybody listening. “Did you seriously just say that out loud?” She snapped in a harsh whisper.

Stacie shrugged, her smile widening all the more. “You’re really cute when you get flustered.”

Aubrey glared, then spun around and kept walking. _You did_ not _call me out here just to tease me in person!_

“Oh, c’mon,” Stacie said, catching up with a few quick strides of her long legs. She reached out and gently touched Aubrey’s elbow. “I’m just being honest.”

Aubrey did not stop walking. An elderly couple passed by, eyeing the two of them with interest. She heard Stacie greet them with a quiet, “Good evening” when she dropped her hand and followed a step behind her.

“You’re right. I didn’t come to talk about…us,” Stacie said with a sigh. The resignation in the way she said it—so different from the way Aubrey was used to hearing her voice inside her head—was almost heartbreaking. Aubrey kept her gaze forward, however, glad she didn’t have to see Stacie’s expression. “I wanted to talk to you about Chloe.”

“So, talk about Chloe, then.”

“It’s absolutely sinful how a woman can be so hot, yet so cold at the same time,” Stacie said with a shake of her head. “You said Chloe had a Connection, right?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Right.” Stacie kept pace behind Aubrey, partly to make room for others out on a casual stroll, and partly because she simply enjoyed looking at Aubrey. “Do you know anything about this person?”

“I told you, she was not very specific. I know she’s a woman, and I know that Chloe seems to really, genuinely like her, but she refuses to meet in person. That’s it. Why are you asking me this again?”

“Tell me something,” Stacie said, gently tugging Aubrey’s elbow to a stop. Aubrey turned, her brows scrunched in annoyance. “Is Chloe a jealous person?”

“That’s…oddly specific,” Aubrey replied, peering up at Stacie through her lashes. Stacie’s heart skipped—she pulled back her hand again, like Aubrey was made of nothing but fire and temptation. _God, she’s beautiful._

Aubrey looked away, and for one horribly awkward moment, Stacie closed her eyes and cursed her stupid, impulsive brain. 

She cleared her throat. “Just answer the question,” Stacie said, looking down at the helmet in her hand.

“Why? Are you thinking of asking her out?”

Stacie’s attention snapped up to find Aubrey studying her now. “No! What? What on earth gave you that impression?” She asked. “You _know_ how I feel.”

Aubrey shrugged. “There are six more days. After that, we don’t owe each other anything.”

Stacie frowned. “But I _told_ you what my intentions were.”

“Yes, intentions you’re making while you’re in the middle of this…situation. In a week, everything will go back to normal. I don’t blame you for covering your bases, even if I don’t condone it. The texting, the smiling, and now this interrogation—you want to know whether Chloe would mind that I’ve been inside your head, don’t you?” Aubrey spun around and continued walking. “I can’t say I approve, but if you make her happy, who am I to judge? Your bigger problem is the competition.”

“Hold on,” Stacie said, grabbing her by the shoulder and earning herself a hard glare. She let go, but undeterred, she took the few steps it took to stand in front of Aubrey. “I’m not interested in Chloe like that—hey!” She yelled when Aubrey went around her. She stepped backwards and held out her arms to stop her. “Jesus, you want me to say it? Fine. I’m _only_ interested in you.”

Aubrey shook her head and opened her mouth.

“Don’t,” Stacie intercepted, “don’t give me your crap about getting caught in the moment.”

Aubrey simply shrugged. “I’m just being reasonable.”

“I don’t—ugh.” She blew out a breath of frustration and dropped her arms. “You know what? I said I didn’t come to talk about us, so I won’t. I asked you to meet me here because I wanted to talk about Chloe. And Beca.”

“Who the hell is Beca?”

Stacie held her helmet in both hands as she gazed down through the tinted visor. “My best friend,” she said quietly. “And if Chloe is the jealous type, then…she’s also very possibly Chloe’s Connection.”

Aubrey didn’t speak for a while, her mind an expanse of noise as she processed this. She was skeptical, Stacie understood, and disbelieving of the coincidences upon coincidences fate layered out for them. Her eyes were also on Stacie’s helmet while she mulled it through, and Stacie listened quietly to the mechanisms of her mind.

“I wouldn’t say she’s the jealous type,” Aubrey said finally, sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear. “She’s…idealistic, and optimistic in a way that’s often misconstrued to be naïve. She’s insecure more than she is jealous—disappointment does that to a person. _Constant_ disappointment does that to a person. Honestly, if your friend is someone who’s going to let Chloe down like this, I’d rather you ask her out yourself.”

Stacie looked up and met her eyes. She felt like she was falling backwards somehow, with nothing to catch her but empty air. “Really?” She whispered. She breathed a laugh and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Message received.” 

Aubrey winced when a pulse of sadness washed over her. It was the first time she felt Stacie’s emotions with such immediate clarity, as if they were her own. They’d shared burgeoning ideas, controlled thoughts, dull abstractions of their emotions—yes, they’d even shared pleasure that one time—but this was unlike anything else. Her own heart wanted to break for Stacie, but she couldn’t tell where Stacie’s sadness ended and hers began—or whether hers was simply an illusion in the first place.

“Look,” Stacie said, “this is…fine.” It wasn’t—they could both feel it, and Stacie wasn’t sure why she said it. A social impulse to dispel the discomfort, perhaps. “But Beca and Chloe…I think they have something there. They’re _both_ no stranger to disappointment, and they’re _both_ afraid of losing each other.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well…it’s funny,” she said with a small smile, “I’d shown Beca a picture of Chloe last week, and I asked if she wanted to meet her. I didn’t know Chloe was her Connection then—and honestly, I didn’t think much of it after our first discussion. She’s been working a lot, and well, there’s been a lot on my mind in the last couple of weeks.” She chuckled without much of her usual mirth. “I just…showed her the picture. Maybe thought it might lead to a nice double date—” she cleared her throat and looked away, her stomach sinking once more. “Anyway, I…took the liberty of inviting her to your Christmas Eve party, and I guess…since you didn’t really want me there in the first place, maybe Beca can go in my place.”

“That makes no sense,” Aubrey scoffed. “Why can’t you just clear things up and let them deal with it? This sounds like you want me to plot against Chloe.”

“Because Beca isn’t like me,” Stacie said, holding Aubrey’s eyes. “She’s not someone who can willingly offer her heart up for slaughter like an idiot. She’ll never go if I told her. Chloe means too much to her.”

“Still, I—”

“Look, I’m not really asking for your permission. I don’t want my friend to live the rest of her life regretting, and I don’t want either of them to give up on this—not when it actually has the potential to grow into something _real_. So…do with all this what you will. But if you really care about Chloe…you’ll help her find her way to Beca.”

 _Chloe is a lot more tenacious than I am,_ Aubrey mused. _She doesn't need my help._

Stacie sighed. _But at some point…she’ll learn to stop trying._

When Aubrey didn’t reply, Stacie tipped her head. “It’s getting dark,” she said softly. “We should head back. Do you…need a ride?”

Aubrey stared at the helmet and pictured sitting on the back of Stacie’s motorcycle, her arms wrapped tightly around Stacie’s waist.

She shook her head to decline the offer.

“Well, then,” Stacie said, walking past her to turn back toward the entrance of the park, “thank you for indulging me.”

“Hey, wait,” Aubrey called after her. She still hadn’t moved when their eyes met once more. “Chloe’s expecting you at the party. You can’t just not show up.”

Stacie raised her brow. “It’ll be our last twenty-four hours together, Aubrey. Don’t you worry our lives will get too entangled?” She asked with a smirk.

Aubrey took the few steps needed to shorten the distance between them. “You know you’re just being facetious,” she grumbled. “But for better or worse, I can’t help being attracted to you too, even though you’re an idiot.”

Stacie furrowed her brows. “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here.”

“Being attracted to you and acting on my attraction to you are two different things,” Aubrey said, the pink in her face peeking out from above her scarf. “While I can admit I don’t really want to see you trying to date my best friend, I’m also not naïve enough to believe you won’t find somebody else in January. Somebody less…difficult, perhaps. People would do anything for the _chance_ to be the one you’re looking for. I know this, obviously, but…that doesn’t mean I don’t want you at the party.”

“Does that mean you might…be willing to give us a try?”

“It means as much as I don’t want to be, it makes me happy how much you want to believe we have any chance of working out.” Stacie took a step closer, and Aubrey flinched, her heart beating loud in her ears. She stood her ground. “But still, the answer is no—I don’t think we should complicate things further.”

“Aubrey,” Stacie said softly, “I’m not asking you to marry me. All I want is to see you again after Christmas.”

Aubrey bit her lip. Unconvinced still that things could be so simple. She wanted Stacie with a fervour that she’d never experienced before, and it scared her to realize it might not be all lust despite all the ways they prodded and poked at each other. It just didn’t make sense.

 _When was the last time anything made sense this month?_ came Stacie’s voice. Aubrey looked up to meet her eyes. _I don’t think love is ever a logical thing. It’s a doorway for two people to go through and see if they’re willing to make it work. That’s all it is._

_You... love me?_

Stacie smiled. _I could._

“This is crazy,” Aubrey murmured.

“It’s crazy how much I want to kiss you right now,” Stacie laughed, pushing her hair back with a hand.

_Then, do it._

Aubrey’s eyes widened at the uninvited thought, her expression almost as bewildered as Stacie’s. But she didn’t move, didn’t try to bury it with words. Instead, she took a deep breath and pulled down the layered fabric of her large scarf. “Do it,” she repeated softly as her breath came out in white puffs. And when Stacie didn’t move, she seized her arm before rationality could stop her, pulled her in before she could lose her nerve, and pushed up on her tiptoes before her impatience ran out.

When their lips touched, every neuron seemed to be firing all at once—the sparks shooting between their combined consciousness like a fireworks display. Stacie dropped her helmet, but barely registered the clatter of it hitting the pavement and rolling onto the grass. All she could feel was Aubrey as she held her face between her palms, and their shared desire as she deepened the kiss.

“Okay, that was…something,” Aubrey breathed, her chest heaving slightly when they finally pulled apart.

“Yeah,” Stacie sighed, a dreamy smile tugging at her lips. “Imagine what would happen if—”

“Don’t say it,” Aubrey said, muffling her mouth with a hand. “Don’t ruin this moment.”

Stacie grinned, then gently tugged Aubrey’s hand into her own. “So…we’re having a moment now, are we?”

“God, it’s such rollercoaster being with you,” Aubrey sighed. Finally, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “It’s unsettling...but I could think of worse things.”

Stacie grinned as she brought Aubrey’s hand to her lips to plant a quick kiss on her knuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”


	4. The Final Week

**CHLOE & BECA - Thursday, December 24th**

_The last day_ , Chloe thought as she quietly ate her oatmeal in her kitchen. Beca wasn’t awake yet—she wouldn’t be awake for several more hours after pulling so many hours in the studio, but Chloe didn’t know this, having been on opposite schedules for most of the last week. All she knew was that time was running out.

And Christmas had never been so flavourless.

In previous years, she’d spend all mornings baking cookies for her kids. This year, not wanting to let them down completely, she’d bought a box of donuts at a local bakery. She cast a wary look at the two pink boxes sitting only an arms length away—it felt almost traitorous to the holiday she loved so much, but sometime in the last week, as the minutes counted down and Beca became harder and harder to reach, the passion and faith she had in Christmas had dwindled down to almost nothing.

She and Aubrey had spent all of last night decorating the house for the party, with a Yule log playing on the TV. They played all of her favourite Christmas songs, and even Aubrey got into the spirit long enough to sing along. It was, by all accounts, supposed to be the perfect evening.

And still Chloe felt the emptiness within her expanding.

“Morning, Chlo,” Aubrey mumbled sleepily as she wandered into the kitchen and directly to the coffee pot. She was already dressed, tight jeans and an ugly green and red Christmas sweater featuring a robot wearing a Santa hat.

“Morning,” Chloe replied. “It’s only seven—what are you doing up so early on your day off?”

If Chloe squinted, she’d see the tips of Aubrey’s ears glowing red from between the strands of her blonde hair. “Stacie wants me to go skating with her,” she said as she started the coffeemaker.

Chloe grinned. As unimpressed as Aubrey tried to sound, it was obvious how much she looked forward to it—she wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. Even on a workday, Chloe had never seen her dressed and ready to go so early. “I’m going to guess this sweater is her idea too?”

Aubrey turned, leaning on the counter while she waited for her coffee, and looked down at her sweater. “Unfortunately,” she said, frowning despite the fondness in her eyes. “The idiot said this robot reminded her of me…so she got us a matching set for Christmas. Honestly, how rude.”

“But…you’re wearing it anyway.”

“Only because she doesn’t believe I am capable of having any fun,” Aubrey said with a faraway smile. “And I hate proving her right.”

That small, subconscious smile—Chloe had been seeing it a lot recently. It was just one of the things that seemed so incredibly different about Aubrey recently.

Chloe laughed. “You guys are so cute.”

“Don’t say it like we’re a thing,” Aubrey said, rolling her eyes. “We’re just…getting used to each other outside of the Connection, I guess. I’m still not convinced she won’t disappear after tomorrow, but… at least she has my number now if she still feels like I’m worth…pursuing.”

“Ugh, Bree—that’s so romantic,” Chloe sighed wistfully.

And _god,_ was she ever envious.

Aubrey had been different ever since Chloe found out about Stacie. Aubrey had left the house shortly after they’d arrived home and had returned dazed. Since that day, Chloe started noticing the secret smiles and the faraway gazes. Twice this week, she’d disappeared in the middle of the evening without a word, only to come home a couple of hours later with wild hair and wild eyes. When Chloe finally pressed her, she admitted she’d been meeting Stacie. She’d insisted it was just a platonic stroll in the park and a quick drive around on her motorcycle, but a motorcycle! The Aubrey she’d known all her life would never have been caught dead on one of those deathtraps, as she used to call them.

Then again, the Aubrey she’d known all her life had never been as happy as she’d seen her this week.

“It’s not romantic,” Aubrey insisted despite the pink in her cheeks, “we’re just—”

A sudden vibration in Aubrey’s pocket cut her off. Chloe watched, amused as she fumbled for the phone in her pocket—she’d never seen her react so quickly to an alert before. Then again, it was usually from work. “It’s Stacie,” Aubrey mumbled mostly to herself, “I don’t know why she bothers texting when I can literally hear her thoughts. Such a weirdo.” Whether she noticed it or not, she was smiling in a way where Chloe hardly recognized her best friend. “Um, she wants to know if we have a piano.”

Chloe glanced over at the upright piano by the Christmas tree. It was a beautiful mahogany instrument, and one of the first things Chloe bought when her clinic started showing success. “Why?” Chloe asked with a small frown. Aubrey knew how Chloe felt about people touching it—they kept the piano under a velvet cover every year.

“She didn’t say,” Aubrey said. But the way her eyes darted back to her phone definitely seemed a little suspicious.

“Well, just tell her she can’t touch it then.” She went back to her oatmeal, but she could feel Aubrey’s eyes on her now. She hasn’t meant to be so curt, but she couldn’t help the frustration.

As happy as she was for her friend, this wasn’t how she’d imagined her last day to go. She couldn’t help wanting the connection Aubrey had with Stacie—the way they could communicate in and out of their heads, filling all the gaps in the way they understood each other. She wanted to reach out to Beca and tell her that she wanted to keep seeing her too. But she couldn’t be as brave as Stacie was—not when Beca was so adamant about avoiding her all this week. The more she wanted, she knew, the further she’d push her away.

Little did she know that Beca was currently asleep in her office, dreaming listlessly about the songs she’d been working on just before her body succumbed to the exhaustion. She’d been chasing deadlines all week and missing Chloe, but there weren’t many moments between her work and her migraines to explain.

So, Chloe filled in the gaps herself, her insecurities colouring their last week together in a way that would definitely not make her therapist proud.

By the time she felt Beca’s presence awaken, Chloe was on her way to the church to prepare her kids for the show tonight.

_Chloe?_

Despite everything she felt when she was alone, Chloe’s heart softened and calmed at the sound of her voice. _Good morning, Beca._

_Oh god, it’s already one?_

_Yeah…_

_Fuck, it’s the twenty-fourth… I’m so sorry, Chloe. I really… wanted to spend more time with you. Especially this week. I was just…_

_It’s okay, Beca. You don’t have to explain. I can understand why you might be avoiding me._

Beca slowly sat up at her desk, wincing when her entire body ached in protest. _What? I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been working._

_Seriously, Beca, it’s okay. Maybe this was just how it was always meant to end._

_Chloe…can we not do this on our last day together?_

Chloe took a deep breath to calm herself to no avail.

Beca felt the wind knocked out of her with the force of Chloe’s sudden hurt.

_It doesn’t have to be our last day together._

_I can’t…keep talking about this,_ Beca managed.

_Don’t you feel like we have something here? That maybe there was a reason the universe connected us together? You can’t wait for the world to keep handing things to you, Beca!_

Beca could feel her own emotions growing and breaking through and spilling over into Chloe’s side now. The mirrored frustration, amplified by anger, were the only ones she could make out.

_Isn’t that what you did? Wait around for the world to hand you this Connection? I didn’t ask for this, Chloe. I’m sorry if I can’t live up to what you want your Connection to be._

_That’s…not what I meant._

_But that’s how you feel._

_Beca…I just want to see you._ Chloe pulled her bike to the side of the road and leaned on her handlebars when it became increasingly hard to breathe. _I don’t want to lose you forever._

_Can’t we just…enjoy what we have now?_

Chloe gripped her bike tightly, her emotions fluctuating in ways she could not comprehend. _If that’s really what you want._

Beca rubbed her eyes. Her head and heart aching again when Chloe’s disappointment pooled over her words. _What I really want is for you to be happy, Chloe._

 _No. Don’t—you don’t get to say stuff like that while you’re hiding behind your fears,_ knowing _what I want. I have a show tonight with my kids… and a Christmas party to host. You’re still welcome to come, but if today is the last day we’ll have for the rest of our lives…I don’t know. I don’t think I can forgive you for throwing this chance away._

_That’s…not fair, Chloe._

_I’m gonna be late. We’ll…talk later._

Beca leaned back in her chair, dazed. _Is that it, then?_ She sighed when the silence hit her. _Chloe…don’t be like this._ She slammed a fist against her armrest, her head pounding alongside her heart. _Fuck. Beca, you fucking idiot,_ she told herself.

Fifteen minutes later, Beca finally snapped out of her stupor long enough to look around her office. The entire building was deathly quiet.

She picked up her phone—no notifications. Stacie was probably with Aubrey again. Beca got up and grabbed her coat—she needed a cup of coffee and could only hope things were open on Christmas Eve.

She didn’t understand how Stacie made it seem so easy. To dive in headfirst into a woman who seemed all wrong for her—she didn’t understand the courage enough to admire her for it.

She was still turning this in her mind when she walked down the steps of the studio as she zipped her jacket up to her neck and shivered with the onslaught of cold wind. She noticed for the first time the lights hanging between the trees. They were red, green, and white—a dash of personality among the drab office buildings in the area. She wondered whether Chloe would appreciate them, and smiled to herself when she figured Chloe would want to go much bigger. A Christmas mural perhaps, or knitted Christmas sweaters for every tree.

She heaved a sigh—she missed Chloe already.

While she sat in a café with a large cup of coffee and a breakfast croissant, she checked her phone again—just a message from her stepmom, which she promptly swiped away. She pictured her friends, warm in their childhood homes, bickering with family they hadn’t seen for months while they caught up and prepared for dinner. There would be inevitable fights, political divides, and far too much drama, and at some point, each person was going to take turns regretting being there. She’d never liked this aspect of the holiday, but without Stacie, it was almost preferable to the quiet loneliness that she’d seldom noticed before.

Without Chloe’s voice and her presence tethered to her own, that loneliness grew into emptiness, breaching on despair when she wondered if this was how she was going to spend every Christmas for the rest of her life.

_How do I find you, Chloe?_

Four hours later, Beca was curled up on her couch, idly browsing through all the disgustingly colourful Christmas movies on TV. The sun was starting to go down, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn on the lights. The darkness suited her too well, especially when Chloe was still so silent.

 _Maybe this was how it was always meant to end_ , she repeated in Chloe’s voice as she clutched her pillow.

She’d worked through so many nights to get Cynthia Rose’s track out into the world last night. Had stayed awake through so many days worrying whether it was going to be good enough, but now that it was done, nothing could be further from her mind. The numbers, the accolades, the critics—when she’d awoken this afternoon, it was like they never existed. All she recognized was sheer exhaustion.

And misery, she realized as she stared blankly at the opening credits of a movie she didn’t remember picking. It couldn’t be, she reasoned, sinking deeper in couch to lay her head on the armrest—the music—there was nothing she adored more than music.

 _Except maybe Chloe_ , her subconscious added.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to finally meet her, but every scenario her brain churned out was laced with disappointment, and every time the poison would spread and misery would return to punch her in the gut. _There’s just no way_ , Beca sighed.

She closed her eyes and tuned out the voices on her television. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

_Chloe, I don’t want to say goodbye like this._

Silence.

_Why didn’t I get her number? Fuck…you fucking idiot._

As the sun continued to set and she began to sink deeper into the darkness all around her, a vague noise in the distance threw her a lifeline. She didn’t see it as such then—not when the sudden noise seemed to overwhelm all her senses at once, but the sound persisted and confusion soon grew into annoyance when she finally registered the sound of her screaming doorbell.

“Who the fuck,” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she trudged to her door. She threw open the door, staggering backwards when the blinding light of the hallway sent a shock through her entire nervous system.

“Woah, are you okay?”

Beca blinked rapidly into the light until two blurry faces came into focus. “What the hell? What are you doing here, Stace?”

Stacie furrowed her brows. “Dude, you look like shit.” She peered around her and into Beca’s apartment. “Are you just…sitting in the dark?”

“The sun went down at some point, I guess,” Beca mumbled, rubbing her brows. She glanced behind Stacie to see a blonde woman wrapped in a big scarf studying her with a steady gaze. She was familiar only through photographs, and equal parts more beautiful and more intimidating in person, if not for the way she was clutching Stacie’s hand. “You’re Aubrey, I’m assuming?”

“Hello,” she greeted without a smile.

Beca nodded.

“Are you dressed?” Stacie asked, bulldozing right through the awkwardness like she often did.

Beca looked down at the ratty hoodie with the Residual Heat logo emblazoned across, an old keepsake from her interning days, and the grey sweatpants. “I’m…not nude, if you’re wondering,” she said drily.

Stacie rolled her eyes, then barged in with Aubrey in tow, making a beeline for the light switch. “Stay here for minute?” she told Aubrey, planting a soft kiss on her cheek before roughly grabbing Beca by the elbow and dragging her toward her bedroom.

Fifteen minutes of muffled yelling behind Beca’s bedroom door later, the two of them re-emerged. This time, Beca wore a white turtleneck with a tartan blazer, with a pair of matte black pants to match. “This is stupid,” she protested as Stacie pushed her into the living room by the shoulders.

“Much better, don’t you think?” Stacie asked Aubrey with a grin.

Aubrey stepped forward and swept Beca’s hair back. Beca ducked back reflexively. “Dude! I just met you—don’t touch my hair.”

Aubrey raised a brow. “Suit yourself,” she said simply. “We should get going, or we’re going to be late.”

Beca squirmed around to look at Stacie. “Stacie, what the fuck?” She asked in a harsh whisper, “did you join a cult?”

Stacie laughed. “Yeah. And my first order of business is to sacrifice a nonbeliever.”

But no matter how much Beca questioned and complained, Stacie simply continued to joke around while Aubrey alternated between glaring at her and avoiding her eyes. It continued this way until they left the building and rounded a corner, where Stacie had parked her car.

“I’m sorry, what is _that_?” Beca cried, gesturing to the white Maserati convertible with red seats and a black top. “When the hell did you get this? I’ve _never_ seen you drive a car in my life. Did you fire your driver or something?”

“Oh, this one’s new,” Stacie chuckled as she ushered Beca into the back seat. “Borrowing it for a special occasion,” she added with a wink.

“Which is what, exactly?” Beca snapped, crossing her arms over her seatbelt.

“Well, since Aubrey and I are still in the process of trying each other on, I’m hoping the nice cars will help me secure dates in January and beyond,” she said, flashing Aubrey a bright grin as she started the car.

“I told you this is unnecessary,” Aubrey said, shaking her head despite the pink crawling up the tip of her ear. “I have my own car. I can pick you up when the conditions aren’t suited for your two-wheeled deathtrap.”

“But what if I wanted to pick you up?” Stacie asked with a slight pout. “With a nice bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates and the whole nine yards? Unless… you’d prefer us skipping all of this and renting out a U-Haul instead.

“You’re an idiot.”

Beca leaned forward and gave Stacie a light punch on the shoulder at the red light. “Stop avoiding the question and tell me where the hell you’re taking me!”

Stacie double-checked the locks on the doors before grinning into the rear-view mirror. “To church!” She announced.

Beca glared at the mirror, but the light turned green and Stacie’s attention was already back on the road. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m going to fucking burn as soon as I walk in through those doors, right?”

Aubrey snorted a laugh. “I said the same thing three years ago. But trust me, you’ll want to be there tonight. For better or worse.”

“Oh c’mon, babe. You gotta tone down on those mama bear instincts of yours. Beca’s a good person.”

Aubrey turned to her and stared hard into the side of Stacie’s face. It wasn’t until Stacie turned to Aubrey with an unprompted smirk, to which Aubrey responded with a glare, that Beca remembered the two of them were psychically linked. She watched the subtle body language in rapt fascination as they carried on their silent conversation.

This was just too much. Especially on a night like tonight.

“Hey, if you guys are done flirting, can you take me home? I’d prefer not to burst into flames tonight,” Beca sighed.

“Nope!” Stacie responded gleefully. “Consider this an intervention for your mopey, grumpy little heart.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

But anything she said fell on deaf ears. She’d never known Stacie to be this level of stubborn, and she had to wonder if Aubrey was involved in whatever was happening right now. Resigned, she leaned back and closed her eyes, silently hoping for a merciful lightning strike to take her before they arrived.

Unfortunately, her prayers went unheard, and they arrived safely at a church Beca didn’t recognize. It was a large gothic structure, full of people on their way inside with more happy smiles to rub in her face.

“Ugh,” Beca mumbled, slumping lower in her seat, “I’ll stay here, Stace. You two have fun—just crack a window for me, will you?”

Stacie parked around the corner, then walked around to open Beca’s door. “C’mon, shortstack. Before I have to drag you up by the collar.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Beca grumbled. “If I die tonight, it’s completely your fault.”

“You’re not going to die,” Stacie said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go.”

The three of them followed the throng of people through the large double doors of the entrance. Beyond them, they pass into a massive hall with high ceilings and polished pews. Candles on iron-wrought holders line the walls, casting the entire room in a warm, yellow glow. _Woah_ , Beca thought as she stared up at the large stained-glass windows at the end of the center aisle, lighting up the alter in a way that made her feel truly small. She swallowed the discomfort down as she followed Stacie and Aubrey down the side.

There were whispers among the white noise of the public, as there often were whenever she went out with Stacie. Mostly, they were people trying to figure out why she looked do damn familiar, but occasionally, there would be a fan, as there was now, clambering over others to intercept her for a photograph or an autograph. Stacie smiled, let go of Aubrey’s hand, and politely complied. Aubrey moved to stand by Beca, looking markedly unsettled by the whole thing.

“I love Stacie, but I also hate this part of being with her,” Beca said with a small smile.

Aubrey nodded slowly. “I’m…a pretty private person, so this…I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Wait, aren’t you a celebrity too?”

Beca shook her head. “I have a pseudonym, but I’m really just a producer. I like working behind the scenes, so I’m mostly known only in the industry. But I’m…actually releasing my first real, non-Christmas album in the first week of January, so…it’s been a lot.”

“Interesting,” Aubrey said quietly. “We heard your song with Cynthia Rose in three separate places today. It’s quite impressive.”

“Thanks,” Beca mumbled.

Finally, they found three empty seats near the centre of the room, and Beca soon found herself sandwiched between Stacie and a portly elderly woman who kept trying to offer her a candy cane. There were no exit routes.

 _I wish Chloe was here right now,_ Beca thought idly as she fiddled with the buttons on her blazer while they waited for whatever was happening to start. She assumed Christmas mass. She hadn’t been to church in over a decade, and to think Stacie was the one to drag her here now, just to be a third wheel on her grand romance. _She’d think this is funny_.

It was almost 7 o’clock. Five more hours until her connection ended.

_Where are you, Chloe?_

Suddenly, the crowd’s murmurs began to quiet down as a group of children filed on stage. Stacie nudged her in the elbow to draw her attention toward the altar, but Beca’s focus was already there. _Oh good, children singing_ , she grouched. _Exactly what a I wanted this Christmas_. Soon, there were three neat rows of children dressed in red choir robes on either side of the stage.

“Here she comes,” Stacie murmured excitedly.

The entire cathedral was quiet when a single set of footsteps crossed the stage.

Beca inhaled sharply. _It’s her._

A woman in a white robe stood at the centre of the stage. She flashed a brilliant smile to the audience before turning around. With a flick of her wrist, the children began to sing. Even from afar, even from that split second where she showed her face, Beca would recognize the red hair and blue eyes anywhere.

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. _I’m so sorry, Chloe…_

And she wanted to hate Stacie for dragging her here, but perhaps she somehow sensed that things were barrelling toward disaster between her and Chloe. She’d vaguely recalled saying herself that it would be better to move on.

So why did she still feel so guilty watching the woman on stage?

“What do you think?” Stacie whispered between songs.

“I think if you wanted a double date, you didn’t have to force me to go to _church_ ,” Beca said, crossing her arms. “She’s Aubrey’s roommate, right? We’re bound to meet eventually.”

“She’s not just Aubrey’s roommate, Bec,” Stacie said with a cryptic smile. She paused for effect. “She’s also a pretty good choir conductor, no?”

“Not exactly my area of expertise,” Beca said, rolling her eyes. “But I guess it’s a good sign that my ears aren’t bleeding.”

“You’re such a snob.”

Despite what she said, Beca enjoyed the music. The children’s voices melded beautifully in their rendition of songs that reminded her of Chloe, if only because they were all Christmas songs. She had to give props to the way the children’s voices were arranged—it churned the creative parts of brain in the best of ways. She almost wanted to revisit her old Christmas album and record it all over again. She only wished Chloe was here to enjoy it with her.

After the concert, Stacie grabbed her just before she could make her escape and pulled her toward the stage. “We’re gonna wait over here,” was all she said. Beca glared, then watched with envy as others slowly spilled out from the pews and scattered toward the door, until all that remained were excited parents and friends and other loiterers caught in conversation.

“Aubrey! I thought I saw you over here!”

Beca peered over from behind Stacie’s shoulder to see an excited woman with a big smile on her face. She squeezed Aubrey in a tight hug while a man with curly hair and rosy cheeks watched on uncomfortably. Aubrey hugged her back easily, which surprised Beca—she didn’t seem much of the hugging type.

“Hi, Stacie!” The newcomer said, waving as she pulled away from Aubrey.

“Hey, Emily!” Stacie greeted cheerfully. “You guys out on a date?”

Emily nodded. “Yep! We never miss this. Are _you_ out on a date?”

Aubrey and Stacie exchanged a look. “You can say that,” Aubrey said, sighing when Emily pressed her hands over her mouth to smother what seemed to be an impulse to scream her excitement from the roof.

“Omigosh, I’m _so_ happy for you guys,” she said. “I mean, I’m also kinda shocked ‘cause you really seemed to hate each other, and I probably wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but now you guys are totally the cutest things ever!”

“Um, Em?” the curly-haired man said, tapping her on the shoulder. Emily looked around in confusion, until he pointed at his watch.

“Oh, crap! I forgot,” Emily gasped. “We have to run—we have to drop off some gifts for Benji’s parents, so we’ll probably be a little late getting to the party. Save some eggnog for us, and tell Chloe I said hi! Awesome show as usual. Or, like, I can tell her in person later—well, you know what, just tell her for me. She should know as soon as possible. Okay, gotta go before Benji starts giving me his darn puppy face. See you guys later!”

And just like that, she was off.

 _Did she say Chloe?_ Beca wondered before Stacie’s voice pulled her focus.

“That girl has so much energy.”

Aubrey laughed affectionately. “Believe it or not, she’s toned down a lot as she got older.”

Stacie turned to Beca with an apologetic smile. “I’ll introduce you two later. I think you’ll really like Emily—she owns Vision A—I told you about her, right?”

Beca frowned. “What’s happening later?”

“The Christmas party?” Stacie said, raising a brow. “You promised you’d come.”

“First of all, I didn’t promise—I said maybe,” Beca replied. “Second, that was _before_ you dragged me to church!”

“Dude, there wasn’t even a sermon! It was just a concert! You’ve gotta chill. I mean, it’s not like you had other plans.”

“Excuse you, ice cream and a _Die Hard_ marathon _is_ a plan? That was _our_ original plan, remember?” Beca said matter-of-factly. _Also crying. Crying is a part of the plan._

_Why are you crying, Beca?_

Beca’s stomach dropped. Stacie tilted her head, her brows knit in confusion, but Beca didn’t see a thing even with her eyes wide open. _Chloe? You’re back…_

_Sorry, it’s been…it’s been a day…_

“Uh, Bec? Are you okay?” Stacie waved a hand in front of Beca’s face.

Beca cleared her throat. “Y-yeah, sorry. Just…zoned out.”

Aubrey scoffed. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

_Beca?_

Beca nudged one of the many pots of poinsettias along the stage with the toe of her shoe. _Yeah?_

_I missed you today._

Beca’s heart fluttered—she closed her eyes and wrapped herself in the feeling, hoping to savour it for as long as she could. _Me too._

_I’m sorry…I just got so overwhelmed and busy and…and I can’t believe we only have three more hours._

_I know…I’m sorry too._

“Hey, there you are.”

_I’ve been thinking…if we can’t meet tonight, maybe we’ll run into each other again some other time. I believe in our connection, Beca. I think fate just has a funny way of—_

Beca furrowed her brow, frowning at the poinsettia when Chloe’s connection suddenly broke off. _Chloe? Fuck, not again._ She rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. _What the hell, man?_

“Beca,” Stacie whispered.

Beca shot her a glare when she didn’t know where else to put her frustration. “What?”

Stacie held her elbow and spun her around.

Beca looked up to see the redhead standing several feet away, studying her with those amazing blue eyes. Her heart raced with that familiar feeling again—she was somehow even more captivating up close. Gone was the shapeless robe, replaced instead by a puffy white jacket with a fluffy hood, belted at the waist, and a green turtleneck to match the hairband and antlers nestled in her hair.

A moment passed, when understanding began to sink in.

_No way._

Stacie, with her hand still on Beca’s elbow, tugged her closer. “Beca, meet Chloe. Chloe, this is Beca.”

 _This is too good to be true,_ Beca heard Chloe say in the midst of her static-filled mind.

Silence struck them both, but it was Beca who spoke first. She mustered up the best smile she could in spite of her nerves, and held out a hand. _This is just a coincidence. There’s just no way._ “Nice to meet you, Chloe,” she said.

“Oh my god, it really is you,” Chloe breathed. “You sound exactly the same.”

 _Holy shit._ Beca dropped her hand slowly. “You…you too.”

A torrent of emotions swept through them both in that moment, a big ball of elation and apprehension pushing in and out of the boundaries of their shared mind. Pure terror and joy seemed to clash, and neither found themselves able to form a single coherent thought.

“Bree…did you know?” Chloe said finally.

Aubrey, who was standing beside Stacie now with a hand around her arm, shook her head. “We suspected, but…we didn’t know for sure. I’m sorry we just sprang it on you.”

“Hopefully you’ll forgive us for meddling—I’ve just known Beca too long not to. So…we’re going to bring the car over…you guys catch up,” Stacie said with a tentative smile.

And then, they were alone. Beca stared down at her shoes as she racked her brain for something to say, but everything inside her seemed to be in knots.

“Beca,” came Chloe’s soft voice—Beca’s heart leapt at the way she said her name, like she was testing it out for the first time. Her voice was slightly different than the one she’d memorized in her thoughts. There were more nuances to its melody, and Beca found herself entranced when she finally looked up.

“Chloe,” she said with a small smile. “This was a…uh, nice surprise. You did mention a kids’ choir…maybe I should’ve put it together. You, um, you were really good.”

Chloe offered a small smile. “Thanks…but, it’s not like we’re the only children’s choir in the state,” she said quietly. “Um…I know…this wasn’t exactly how you planned to spend Christmas Eve.” _Are you disappointed?_

Chloe looked surprised by the question her subconscious asked, and she blushed—the layered implications of that single question far more revealing than she intended.

“I could say the same thing,” Beca said, running a hand through her hair nervously. “I’m not…ugh.” She closed her eyes and reigned in her instinct to drag herself through the mud, especially in front of the girl she was so drawn to in every way. _She’s so damn beautiful._

Chloe’s shy smile widened and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“You’re adorable, Beca,” she said with a lopsided grin. “I’ve always suspected you would be, but seeing you in person…”

Beca felt a warm flood of affection that tingled her senses, and she wondered if she sent Chloe the same. “The woman in the photo,” Beca blurted suddenly. “Do you…remember…”

Chloe’s smile fell. “The woman you said ‘gorgeous doesn’t do her justice’—I…gosh, I’m still kind of sorry about the way I reacted. It was a little…I’m working on it.” _Even though I can’t control the way I feel about you. And meeting you in person really doesn’t help._ “I promise I’m not always like that.” _There’s just something about you. “_ Oh my god, my brain needs to shut up.”

Beca watched the panic start to take its hold across Chloe’s face as her mind whirled between conscious and subconscious like a centrifuge. “Chloe, hold on,” she said without thinking. “Just…give me a moment.” Beca reached for her phone and pulled up the picture she’d saved. 

“Sorry,” Chloe said with a sheepish smile.

A moment later, Beca held out her phone and dropped her eyes to the poinsettias. “This was the photo.” Chloe leaned in and squinted at the slightly blurry photo, then recoiled. The warmth in Beca’s cheeks burned hotter.

“That’s…Aubrey.”

Beca barked a laugh and zoomed into the picture. “Definitely not.” She offered Chloe a shy smile and finally, their gaze locked. “It’s you,” she murmured. “This whole time, it’s only ever been you, Chloe.”

For one terrifying moment, Chloe couldn’t speak, leaving Beca alone with her anxiety— _did I come on too strong?_

 _No._ Chloe’s voice swept through her like coming home to a fireplace on a cold day. Before her, Chloe’s wondrous blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She gasped them back, hiding her smile behind her hand when she said, “We were stupid, weren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, the side of her mouth stretching into a grin. She glanced down at her phone when she felt it vibrate in her hand. “Oh, Stacie’s here.”

“I guess we should get going then?” Chloe said with a smile. “Don’t want to be late for our own party.”

At 9 o’clock, there was a quiet buzz in the air as people mingled to the soundtrack of Christmas music. It was still early, still civil, still exciting to connect and reconnect with everyone in the room. Beca had never liked parties, but despite the sparkling, golden decorations and the wonder of seeing a place that Chloe fit into so well, there was a heaviness in the air that constantly seemed to demand her attention.

She’d allowed Chloe to introduce her to her friends, and luckily, she didn’t seem to mind when Beca barely spoke. In those moments, Beca found her fears soothed and her doubts unfounded, and while this was all well and good, time was ticking.

The only reprieve from the pressure of time was when Beca had found the piano at the side of the room. She’d lifted the velvet cloth and touched the ivory keys, admiring the beauty when Emily, drunk on gingerbread and eggnog, threw her arm around Beca and urged her to play something. She’d turned and met Chloe’s eyes from across the room. _May I?_ —Chloe nodded, then turned down the music. Heat rushed to Beca’s face when so many pairs of eyes were suddenly on her. Luckily, her back was to the rest of the room when she sat down, and the first note rang out beautifully from her fingertips.

As soon as her voice joined the gentle melody, the room seemed to grow still as the familiar lyrics floated through the room: “I don’t want a lot for Christmas; there is just one thing I need…” Her version was slow and intimate, and Chloe was beside her by the end of the first verse, her own voice melding beautifully with Beca’s by the chorus.

It was, for both Chloe and Beca, a spiritual existence when their voices carried their doubts and worries far, far away, leaving them only with the indisputable fact that they made beautiful, beautiful music together. In those three minutes and forty-five seconds, everything made sense.

As the last note faded away, they stared at each other, wide-eyed. Neither could put the experience into tangible thought. The room exploded into applause and Chloe hugged her.

Embarrassed and alarmed by how overwhelming her feelings for Chloe were, Beca excused herself and hid in the bathroom. _You were amazing, Beca_ , Chloe soothed her from afar. _Thank you._

But Beca ran a hand down her face and kicked herself a little bit more once Chloe’s attention was pulled away. _God, you need to stop fucking this up,_ she told herself as she finally found the courage to return to the party. Finally, she and Chloe exchanged small smiles, and despite how acutely aware she was of time slipping away, she could breathe again.

At 11 o’clock, Beca surveyed the guests from the side of the room, her capacity for socializing with strangers long depleted. It had become a bit of a game to see who was Connected and who wasn’t. She had assumed it would get easier over the night, but it was the same spectrum of drunk and sober as every other party. People coped in different ways, she supposed. Stacie and Aubrey had disappeared half an hour ago, almost as soon as Aubrey had greeted all the guests, smiled her smiles, played her part, and put out the vat of eggnog with far too much rum. Beca avoided the rum—drinking brought out the worst, and Chloe didn’t need to see that.

Others were wrapped together in their own private worlds, or crying alone with too much eggnog in their hands.

All Beca craved was time alone. To feel Chloe’s heart, mind, and soul entangled in hers for every remaining second they had.

Suddenly, someone tugged her by the arm. _Come with me_ , came Chloe’s voice. She’d hardly registered it when she felt the warmth blooming from her hand, had hardly caught the tail end of Chloe’s smile before she stumbled after her.

It was suddenly quiet, the party outside seemingly worlds away beyond these walls. Beca looked around and noted a large bookcase before Chloe filled her entire field of vision. “We only have fifty more minutes, Beca,” Chloe mumbled. She was standing so close that Beca could smell the cinnamon sweetness off her hair. Her eyes flicked between Beca’s eyes and lips—Beca moved back out of sheer instinct, but her back immediately hit the door. That was when she noticed that Chloe’s hands were already on the lapels of her jacket, and her heart immediately leapt into double-time when Chloe’s desire melded into her own.

“Chloe,” Beca whispered without thinking. “Are you…drunk?”

“No,” Chloe said with a half-smile in spite of the pinkness in her cheeks. “Well, maybe I had just a tiny bit of eggnog—I needed the courage to drag you in here and tell you how I really feel.”

“Chloe…” Then, a question surfaced, one that had been simmering beneath for so long that Beca had forgotten it would one day boil over. “What if…everything changes tomorrow?”

“My feelings for you aren’t going to change,” Chloe said with conviction.

“You’ve seen how I am,” Beca said with an apologetic smile. “I’m not…good at putting things into words sometimes.” _If you can’t feel what I feel…you might never know…how I feel…about everything. Especially about you._

“This month…I’ve felt…so many things. The best and the worst and everything in between. That’s…more than what most people get,” Chloe said, leaning her forehead against Beca’s. “And I swear to Saint Nick that I will burn every Christmas thing I own and vow to never celebrate this day ever again if you don’t kiss me tonight, Beca I-don’t-know-your-last-name.” _Because I’ve been falling in love with you since you sang me Mariah Carey—maybe even before that—and if tomorrow comes and you still don’t know how I feel,_ “I will say it a million times so you can get it through your stubborn head.” _So, don’t…run away from me. Please._

 _Oh_ is all Beca’s thoughts were able to coherently put together while her emotions bounced out of control.

 _“_ I take that as a yes?” Chloe whispered, smiling as she inched a little closer.

“Um,” Beca said, ducking her head a little, “it’s Mitchell.”

Chloe dropped her hands and lifted her head, a pang of frustration slapping across both their minds as she took a deep breath. Beca shivered. “What?”

“My name,” Beca said with a sheepish smile. “It’s Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe puffed her cheeks. “Miss Beca Mitchell, you are unfairly cute, you know that? But…” She stepped back, running her hand through her fluffy red hair, her emotions running equally wild. Beca watched the motion of her hand, her heart hammering as she imagined her own hand there for a different reason entirely. She could barely sort through her own feelings, much less distinguish them from Chloe’s.

Chloe looked at her then, as if she heard the images of Beca’s desire, and subconsciously swiped her tongue across her lower lip—a rush of familiar desires mirrored and reflected off each other. The shiver returned, crawling up Beca’s spine with a vengeance.

 _This isn’t going to end in just a kiss,_ Beca realized.

Chloe clutched her elbow, her eyes burning at odds with the rising doubt. “Don’t leave,” came her gentle plea.

Beca looked down—her hand was on the door knob. The fear had kicked in without her noticing. A part of her wanted to run, wanted to escape these feelings and bury herself in the comforts of her empty life. But the other part, the part rising up inside of her, knew leaving would be the biggest regret of her life. But Chloe… her honesty was so raw. She couldn’t help but believe she would one day hurt her. She just couldn’t stomach the thought.

The decision was made for her when a hand covered her own and gently peeled it away from the doorknob. Chloe’s warmth enveloped her as she pressed Beca’s hand to her own heart. “Listen,” she said, “it’s okay. I’ll let you go, but—”

“Don’t let me go—please,” Beca murmured. “I’m just…I’ve never felt this way before and…I’m so fucking bad at this, Chloe. I can’t stand the thought of hurting you, but I know—I just know I will…”

“Beca,” Chloe said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind Beca’s ear, “have you considered that maybe…I don’t need you to be perfect…in the way that you think I do? I mean…if I wanted you to be perfect, then that means you’d want me to be perfect too…and I can’t live up to that.”

Beca frowned. _But you are perfect. To me._

“I’m not!” Chloe laughed. “You’re overlooking the worst parts of me and the best parts of you, Beca. There are sides of me that I’m really scared to show you, but…if you’ll give me a chance, maybe we can work through them together.”

“I don’t…really know what to say,” Beca confessed.

But Chloe felt the warmth between them, the clear affection nestled between the tangles of Beca’s fear. So, she smiled. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Beca nodded.

 _Thank god. I’ve wanted to do this all night._ Chloe leaned in with Beca’s hand still in hers, pressed over her pounding heart, and gently pressed her lips against Becas. The anticipation alone crackled between them, but the touch—the currents sparking flame along their shared connection—was almost enough to bring Beca to her knees if not for Chloe’s arm wrapped around her waist. Beca melted against her.

Passion erupted as the sweetness of that first kiss transformed. The second kiss was fire, but the third—emboldened by the centrifuge of emotions swirling between them, Beca broke the kiss just long enough to catch her breath, dark eyes blazing into Chloe’s when she grabbed a handful of her sweater and kissed her with enough force to push her back. She felt a spike of Chloe’s excitement pierce through the haze, then the warmth of her fingertips against her neck when Chloe hit the desk behind her. Something clattered to the floor, but neither of them cared. Chloe cleared the mostly empty desk with a sweep of her arm when Beca pushed her up on top of it. All Chloe cared about was Beca’s hair in her fingers, and the dual sensation of touching and being touched exploding in her brain as Beca trailed her kisses down her neck and ran her fingers across the hot skin beneath her sweater.

 _I need you, Beca_. Chloe threw her head back with a sigh, eyes closed as Beca tugged off her jeans.

Beca blinked. _Candy cane underwear_.

“It’s festive,” Chloe said with a pout.

“You’re so weird…and adorable,” Beca murmured, planting a kiss on Chloe’s jaw as she gently pushed against her inner thighs.

Chloe’s blue eyes caught Beca’s in the same moment that her hand fell from Beca’s shoulder to her wrist. “And you’re a tease,” she whispered, guiding Beca’s hand to the candy canes.

The fabric was warm, damp to the touch. But most of all, a jolt of pleasure struck them both the moment they touch—Beca shuddered, as if she were the one on the desk. Chloe’s breath caught in her ear as she curled against her, moving with the rhythm of each stroke.

It was the kind of pleasure neither could have imagined—simultaneous giving and taking, amplified by the intensity of their Connection. It was one that would, over the course of their remaining minutes, take them both to the greatest heights several times over

At 11:59 PM, Beca was in the office chair, her blazer at her elbows and her sweater pulled up above her breasts as Chloe kneeled between her legs, slowly bringing her down as the final pulses of her orgasm rushed over them both. Chloe was breathing hard, her hair mussed—her antler headband long gone—when she met Beca’s eyes.

In the aftermath of so many emotions, Beca relaxed into a grin. As her racing mind slowed, the walls around her fell apart, and the only words left inside of her was a single, vulnerable confession: _I love you, Chloe._

Chloe gasped, the words searing into her heart. It would’ve taken only a second for her to say it back, but she didn’t have another second.

The silence suddenly came down like a hammer, obliterating her consciousness of everything that wasn’t hers.

Her heart lurched forward—her connection to Beca was gone. Just like that.

It was midnight.

Chloe couldn’t move—her eyes still glued to Beca’s for fear she would also disappear. _Did you mean it?_ She asked the empty space.

Beca slid off the chair, pushing it back to hit the bookshelf behind it, and knelt down next to Chloe, pulling her into her embrace. “I love you, Chloe,” she repeated out loud. “I wasn’t sure if you heard it.”

Chloe nodded stiffly. “I heard it…I just…wasn’t sure if it was real,” she whispered, squeezing Beca close.

“I’m still scared shitless,” Beca murmured into her hair, “but it’s definitely real.”

Chloe pulled back, caressing Beca’s cheek with her thumb as she spoke. “I love you too, Beca…but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“It’s…nice to still hear it,” Beca said with a shy smile.

Chloe laughed, planting a chaste kiss on her lips before another thought struck her. “Does this mean you’re willing to give me a chance?”

“Well,” Beca said slowly, “I’m sitting pantsless under a desk with you…telling you things that make me feel more exposed than being pantsless…so…I hope you’ll still have me, or I’m going to feel like an idiot.”

Chloe grinned, reaching out to touch the hem of Beca’s sweater. “I kinda think having you pantsless is the best Christmas present ever.”

“Oh.” Beca bit her lip to suppress the smirk. “And I was thinking of getting you my collection of Christmas albums too.”

Chloe gasped. “You told me you hate Christmas!” She cried.

“Well,” Beca said, straddling Chloe’s lap as she ran a finger along her jaw, “I do…usually. I’ve been producing Christmas albums every year in December for the last eight years. Except this year. Normally, I’d be sleeping off my exhaustion until New Years by now.”

Chloe looked up at her, blue eyes flashing with reverence while her hands settled on her hips. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you got _so_ much sexier just now.”

Beca blushed. “Is it because I told you I produced a lot of Christmas albums or because I’m in your lap right now?”

Chloe grinned. “Both. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

Beca held her face in both hands. “You’re such a dork,” she murmured, kissing her once more. _I love you_.

And though the Connection was gone, Chloe smiled against her lips. She could feel Beca’s emotions running alongside her own in every move she made. She could feel her love in her lips and her eyes. And though Beca would not know the exact time Chloe said _I love you_ in her heart, it didn’t matter anymore.

She heard it in everything else.

**STACIE & AUBREY - Friday, December 25th**

Aubrey awoke on the morning of December 25 to compete and utter silence. The house was quiet—her friends must’ve gone home. Hopefully nobody was passed out on the couch. A stray bird sang in the distance. A stray car drove by. The world felt so quiet. She looked over at her alarm clock.

It was only 6 o’clock. She closed her eyes. _Stacie should be up soon_ , she thought sleepily. She rolled to her side into a more comfortable position, but as her hand fell, a loud smack filled the air, followed by a groan. Aubrey’s eyes flew open in a panic.

“Ow,” came a familiar sleep-addled voice.

_Stacie?_

She turned to her with a pout as she rubbed her cheek. “What…did you just slapped me in the face?” she groaned sleepily, then rolled over to bury her face in Aubrey’s chest. 

Aubrey blinked, her hands settling absently in Stacie’s hair. It wasn’t until her hand found bare shoulders that the memories came flooding back.

The party last night, the relentless teasing, and the sizzling anticipation whenever their eyes met across the room.

The way Stacie had stood behind her, her arms wrapped warmly around her waist as they swayed to Beca and Chloe’s duet.

Then, the excuses she made when she’d escaped to her bedroom, Stacie following close behind. She remembered her pent-up desire melding with Stacie’s when she’d walked into the room and locked the door behind her. She remembered that desire shattering her senses when Stacie lifted her into her arms and wrapped her legs around her waist and kissed her with a gentle strength she’d never known.

Their Connection tugged and pulled when Stacie laid her down on the bed and slowly worshipped every inch of her body, their shared senses alight.

It was the greatest pleasure Aubrey had ever known, the intensity of it unlike anything else. And when the Connection untethered them at midnight, they were both asleep after a long day, wrapped up in each other and dreaming only of warmth.

“Aubrey?”

Stacie’s voice pulled her out of her memories. She found her green eyes studying her, and her entire body grew warm.

Still, her mind was so quiet.

“Hi,” she responded with a tentative smile.

“Hello, beautiful,” Stacie grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

_Ah._

“So that’s why it’s so quiet,” Aubrey mumbled.

Stacie laughed. “Miss me already?”

“Yeah,” Aubrey replied. Honesty was surprisingly easy after all this time.

“Me too,” Stacie said, her smile faltering for a moment. “But you can bet your cute ass I’ll keep embarrassing you out loud. You’re lucky I never had much of a filter to begin with.”

“I thought your goal was to pursue me, not repulse me,” Aubrey said with a smirk.

“I think we both know how much you love being flustered,” Stacie said, tucking Aubrey’s hair behind her ear. “I forgot to say this out loud, but you’re gorgeous in the morning.” Her voice was tinged with awe, and Aubrey’s heart fluttered. “Especially with this wild sex hair,” she laughed. Then, with sudden reverence, she whispered, “Last night was amazing, wasn’t it?”

Her fingertips rested against Aubrey’s cheek now, her eyes glowing with fondness.

“Yeah, but the Connection definitely helped,” Aubrey said, her eyes darting away uncomfortably. Because how were they supposed to live up to a supernatural shared experience after that? They were two separate people now, each in charge of giving and taking. And Aubrey never had enough lovers to determine whether she was even any good at this. Stacie, on the hand…

Stacie kissed her again, softly at first, then drew a low moan from the back of Aubrey’s throat when she rolled her onto her back, the cool air jolting her warm skin when the blankets were pulled back. But soon, Stacie was top of her, her hot tongue staking claim on everything it touched.

Aubrey found herself melting as Stacie trailed her hand down the length of Aubrey’s body. She could still feel the weight of sleep on her, but her mind was wide awake as her fingers tangled itself into Stacie’s hair.

When she came again, she bit a silent scream into Stacie’s shoulder as pleasure exploded behind her eyes.

She breathed hard, curled up against Stacie’s chest while she held her. She felt a kiss in her hair and she closed her eyes. “Holy shit,” she sighed.

The vibration of Stacie’s laughter rumbled against her. “Was that okay? Or are you still mourning our Connection?” Aubrey pulled away with a little frown. _How did she know?_

“I can recognize the doubt when I see it,” Stacie went on with a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I love being with you and discovering everything about you.” Her thumb brushed Aubrey’s cheek lightly. “I love seeing your expressions and hearing your voice. I love the way you smell. I love tasting you and feeling you in my arms and all the little ways every one of these experiences differ every time. The Connection was beautiful—I loved being a part of your mind even when it did drive you crazy, but this—this is so much more than that, don’t you think?”

“Stop,” Aubrey said, sniffling a little as she buries her face back into Stacie’s chest. “You can’t just say these things after making me come like that. I get so emotional, and I hate being so emotional.”

Stacie chuckled, holding her a little closer. “As much as I love the thrill of your cold glares, you’re emotional side is really the cutest. I just want to squish you and swallow you up.”

“That’s rude,” Aubrey mumbled.

“Sorry,” Stacie said, grinning. “But…you know I really adore you, right? This week has been so awesome, and…I know it’s a lot and you don’t have to say it yet—hopefully in the future you might feel the same way—but I want to tell you—”

Aubrey leaned back and clapped a hand on Stacie’s mouth. “I love you too, you idiot,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I thought that was obvious.”

Stacie’s brows lifted. “Oh,” came her muffled reply into Aubrey’s hand.

“Why do you seem so surprised?” Aubrey raised a brow.

Stacie mumbled her reply with a blush. “I guess…I just didn’t think...I mean, I assumed I was…you know…”

“Well, if you don’t believe me…I could…maybe show you?” Aubrey said, dropping her hand to Stacie’s collar bone with a slowly widening smile. The effect she had on Stacie was electrifying and way she looked at her now—like she was the only woman in the world for her—made her feel so powerful. Strong. Loved. Every doubt she had was long forgotten.

Aubrey kissed her hard.

Stacie shivered. “Yes, please.”

Later that morning, Aubrey walked into the kitchen, tugging Stacie with her by the hand as she went in search of coffee. To her surprise, Chloe was already there, humming to herself as she rolled out a sheet of cookie dough.

“Chloe? You’re already up?” Aubrey remarked. The microwave read 10 o’clock, but from the way she’d watched Chloe with Beca last night, she’d assumed she might be sleeping in. Beca was nowhere in sight, but at least Chloe seemed happy.

“Morning, Bree!” Chloe said, looking up with a grin. “And good morning, Stacie! Merry Christmas!”

Stacie slid onto one of the bar stools along the spacious kitchen island to watch Chloe work. “Merry Christmas, Chloe! You’re making cookies? And I thought this Christmas couldn’t get any better,” she said, shooting Aubrey a wink. Aubrey shook her head with a smile and pulled two mugs from the cupboard.

“Have you eaten yet, Chlo?” Aubrey asked as she waited for her coffee.

“Oh, not yet,” Chloe said with an embarrassed smile. “I just wanted to bake some cookies for everyone before I go clean the office.” She gasped then, her movements halting as she met Aubrey’s eyes with a look that said she definitely did not mean to say that out loud.

Aubrey frowned. “My office? Why?”

Silence.

“Oh my god,” Stacie mumbled behind her hand. She burst into laughter, and Aubrey shot her a look that went unnoticed.

Chloe’s face burned crimson. “I’m sorry—I just…kinda got caught up. It’s…closer.”

“And if I recall correctly,” Stacie said between breaths, “Aubrey is _famously_ digitally meticulous, so I’m sure her desk is _very_ clean.”

Aubrey’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Chloe, you did _not_ have sex in my office!” Chloe said nothing, her entire body as red as her hair as she gripped her rolling pin defensively. “That’s—oh my god, that’s like me having sex on your piano,” she muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I’m sorry! I’ll clean it top to bottom—I promise, Bree.”

“But… _can_ we have sex on your piano, Chloe?” Stacie added with a mischievous grin.

Chloe cringed. “I guess…if you sanitize it after and never ever tell me about it. Fair’s fair.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I take it that things with Beca worked out last night?”

“You can say that,” Chloe said with a shy smile. “I can’t thank you enough for you guys bringing her to me. I mean…it’s hard to believe we’ve been so close all this time, but still…I was so close to giving up yesterday.”

“I know how that feels,” Stacie said as she accepted the mug of coffee from Aubrey with an affectionate smile. “Beca isn’t always easy, but she’s worth it. She just needs a little push sometimes.”

“I heard my name.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to the hallway, where Beca stood, yawning. She was wrapped up in one of Chloe’s sweatshirts, just a little too big for her. “Can I get some of that?” she asked, pointing to Aubrey’s mug.

“Help yourself,” Aubrey said, handing her an empty mug from the cupboard before joining Stacie on the other side of the island.

Beca mumbled her thanks and flashed Chloe a shy smile and a quick “good morning” before turning to the coffeemaker. Chloe dusted off her hands on her apron and sidled up for a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to her cookies.

Aubrey smiled into the rim of her mug at the glowing smile on Chloe’s face from the simple gesture alone.

“So, what do you two lovebirds have planned for today?” Stacie asked, leaning her elbows on the counter.

“I’m not sure,” Chloe said thoughtfully. “I guess…we have to sorta get used to not having the Connection anymore…anything would be nice.”

“It’s not very festive, but I can give you a tour of the studio if you like,” Beca offered quietly. “Nobody will be there today since it’s Christmas and all.”

“Oh my gosh, that would be so cool! You can show me your Christmas albums!”

“Dude, it took you, like, five years to let me come visit you at the studio. I had to secretly make friends with your assistant first so she could let me in,” Stacie complained. “That is so uncool. Chloe, I feel like it’s my duty to tell you that Beca once posed on the cover of a Christmas album dressed like an Elf on the Shelf. You _have_ to see it.”

“Dude!” Beca screeched, her cheeks glowing red.

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and her big, blue puppy-dog eyes were all over Beca now. “Oh, please, Beca. Now we have to go.”

“Just remember to come back for dinner, Chlo. You too, Beca,” Aubrey laughed. “Christmas tradition and all.”

Several hours later, Aubrey was standing in that same kitchen preparing dinner when a sudden wave of nostalgia swept through her. She made dinner for herself and Chloe on Christmas Day every year for three years now. The two of them, winding down from the party the night before, would have a quiet night in, making obligatory phone calls and sending messages to their families. Emily usually came by with presents, and they might have a glass of wine. Chloe might have a few extra when the Christmas Connection bypassed her again. The disappointment would come and go, replaced quickly by the love they had for each other. They were their own little family, and that, for three years, had been enough.

But this year, Stacie was standing only steps away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand while she cried into the onion she was dicing. She put down the wooden spoon she was stirring the pan of minced beef with, and wrapped her arms around Stacie’s middle. Stacie leaned into her. “What’s this for?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Aubrey replied. “I just felt like it.”

Stacie was solid and warm, and her laughter was everything she never knew she needed. For a month she had been so many things, from an annoyance to an anchor. For nearly a month, she’d simultaneously dreaded and looked forward to the day the Connection ended. But now, there were new paths ahead, so much to explore. And Stacie was right—she no longer feared the feeling of being untethered; she simply held onto every sensation Stacie had to offer and let them carry her away.

“Aubrey,” Stacie whispered as she placed the knife on the cutting board. She sniffled a little, leaning her head back when her eyes stung. “It might be a bad time to tell you this while I’m cutting onions, but…I’m really starting to think you’re my One.”

Aubrey laughed. “You’re so ridiculous sometimes, you know that?” Gently, she turned her around and planted a quick kiss on her pouting lips. “I don’t really believe in this kind of thing,” she admitted, “but…with you, I think it could be possible.”

“Good,” Stacie said, grinning. “Because I plan to stick around for at _least_ a dozen more Christmases.”

“You better.”

Later still, when the four of them sat at the dinner table with a pan of lasagna and a bottle of wine, it was almost easy to believe it had always been the four of them, interconnected by the threads woven by an urban legend. They would look fondly back at this time, every thrill and every fear, shared so intimately with another person. But as time went on, they would find new ways to connect—new ways to love and feel and pour their hearts and minds to each other.

For now, they clinked their glasses and wished each other a merry Christmas as the candles flickered and the music played. The first of many happy Christmases ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Whew, I made it after all before the end of December. I'm definitely cutting it a bit close. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and sharing this story. Again, I'd intended it to be a short little experiment, but wow, a whopping 40k in just about 2 weeks... I'm now ready to hibernate for the rest of my time off hahaha! Anyway, I hope you guys did enjoy this little soulmate concept. So many has been done in the world that I'm happy you guys gave this particular one a chance :) 
> 
> If you liked this story, please do check out my current project for the Pitch Perfect fandom if you haven't already (The Million-Dollar Bounty). I based a lot of little moments and characterizations on that story, since I've grown so attached to them in the course of developing their story. If you're a fan of that story, I'm going to try to updated it for January since we are entering the final two chapters, but I definitely do need a bit of a break from writing, so...we shall see! 
> 
> As always, any love is appreciated! 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Years, everyone! Stay happy, stay safe. Watch Death to 2020 and enjoy that optimism for 2021 ;)


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